Lens and Liberation
by Feierlich
Summary: Putting an original, practical spin on a popular fantasy offering, Lens and Liberation details the adventures of a photographer through a world of catchable creatures. There are no canon characters. The world is not at risk. And this is no action-packed thrill ride: it is life. Regularly updated. Suitable for intermediate and advanced readers.
1. i

It all started with a letter.

This particular letter was much like any other: a sealed envelope, stamped and certified to make its way between destinations. And much like any other letter, it had been delivered through the Pelipper Post – the preferred form of transit for all such items – to a mailbox, where it sat to await its eventual receipt.

The letter had been delivered that morning to Lavaridge Town, a locale in the Hoenn region that had once been little more than a hamlet, a quick stop for those who wished to partake of one or both of its vanities. These vanities took the form of the Pokémon Gym and the local hot springs, the latter of which were said to possess therapeutic properties. Despite these attractions, though, the relative inaccessibility of the town due to some impossibly steep ledges and a dauntingly long detour had forced all but the most dedicated tourists to give up their plans for visiting the area. Several years' worth of saving by the community had worked to break through this obstacle; with funds gathered by citizens and the few businesses in the area at the time, Lavaridge was able to hire a construction crew and demolish a fair portion of the hillside in order to carve a proper set of stairs into the cliffs, opening the way for commerce to fully embrace their home. Because of this, the town had expanded to become the second-largest populated area in all of Hoenn, with housing and storefronts extending around the bottom of the volcano that provided them with heat and geothermal power.

One of these houses belonged to the Ariae family. The family consisted of a mother and daughter: the mother was fairly respected in her town, having built up a reputation for reliability through years of hard work and perseverance. Letters were common within her house, and she'd received many over the course of her family's stay in their home: some from relatives, some from old friends, and some from merchandisers who sold things that she was interested in.

But the letter that came that day was different, as its recipient would soon see.

-/-

It was about ten o'clock that morning when Rhea Ariae walked outside her home, her arms heavy with the weight of that day's trash. The smell of sugar wafted outside as she shouldered her way over the threshold, clinging to the plastic garbage bag as if to bury the stench of waste in a sea of sweetness, but these efforts were hardly necessary as the woman marched the bag down the walkway and to the sidewalk, where it was promptly dumped into the container set aside for the disposal workers to pick up.

That task accomplished, Rhea took a moment to peer down the road in search of said workers, who had proved somewhat late in attending to her portion of the city in recent weeks. She'd heard something about the change in schedule: less pay, longer hours, and a somewhat uncaring manager had forced a strike amongst the workers… or something to that effect, anyway. Regardless, it just wasn't right to have to punish paying customers because of an issue with employees, and perhaps she'd write a note for the trash people when they came over that day in order to better state such an opinion. But they most likely wouldn't be arriving for a few hours, so she shrugged and turned her attention to the next order of business: the mailbox.

The little green flag opposite the red one was sticking straight up - there was something inside the box. So, opening the back of the mailbox, she reached inside and retrieved that day's mail. This took the shape of a small mountain of paper, which she flipped through whilst she had the convenience of the trash can nearby for the disposal of junk.

Bills were the standard fare that day, it seemed: utility payments, car insurance, and her daughter's tuition fees, the last of which Rhea would be giving to her daughter to take care of. The trash bin did in fact see some use as she continued to sift through the pile, taking the few catalogs she'd been waiting for and tossing the flyers for things like Poké Mart sales – and very nearly threw out an envelope along with one. A mad grab saved it from entering the depths of the bin, and she brought it to the top of the pile, scanning the return address almost absently.

A moment later, she was dashing back inside the house, calling her daughter's name.

-/-

Rhea's daughter lived with her mother, keeping a room in the back of the house so as not to bother her mother with her own concerns. The choice to remain where others her age might have struck out into the world for themselves had been a deliberate one, for this girl had always been somewhat attached to her parent.

At home, Shen was a somewhat quiet girl, keeping her thoughts and activities to herself in the relative privacy of her own room. This room was where she spent nearly half of each day, taking meals only when she wasn't working, studying, or sleeping. Her mother didn't mind this much; Shen was a good girl, after all, and any worries that she might have had about her little girl being a hermit were wiped away the moment that girl stepped outside the house each day.

Outside, Shen was practically a force of nature. She'd long become a well-known personality within their town, mostly being known for her work with a hobby that she'd had since childhood: photography. With a camera, Shen was a savant, and nearly every single postcard sold by the local general store featured a picture that she'd taken at some point since she'd first hit upon the idea of dedicating her life to capturing images. The popularity of her work had allowed her to pursue that dream.

This pursuance, in turn, had attracted a number of opportunities for her to turn her work into something a bit more worthwhile. Or, at least, such had been the line delivered to her by many a prospective employer. But Shen hadn't been interested in working for gossip tabloids or celebrity rags, for her portfolio, when she had taken the time to build it, had been given to the newspaper.

The newspaper in question was the Hoenn Standard Times, a weekly publication that spread the fruits of professional journalism to every corner of the continent. The men and women that worked for such an organization were some of the best in their field, and their efforts had earned their parent paper more than a few awards for the depth of its storytelling and the weight of emotion that went into every single photograph. It was these people, Shen had decided, that she wanted to work for, and she had waited for weeks – three of them, to be exact – for her application to be reviewed. Those weeks had been a study in stress and worry, with hope becoming a thing that she did not dare to touch.

So when her mother called her, she knew what was coming.

-/-

"Shen! Shen, you have a letter!"

Rhea had made her way through the house by that point, coming to a stop in front of her daughter's door. Thankfully, she didn't have to knock in order to get the girl's attention, for within seconds, the door opened, the sounds of a television program fading to silence. Immediately afterward, Shen's brown-haired head made an appearance, followed closely by the rest of her.

"It's here?" she asked, knowing full well that she wouldn't have to explain what 'it' was. Both her and her mother knew exactly what she was expecting.

"It's here."

Shen heard the unfathomable concern of a mother contained in that two-word sentence and smiled.

"Well, let's go open it!"

-/-

About five minutes later, both mother and daughter were sitting in the living room, with the letter resting upon a table before them. Silence reigned in that space, for the good-hearted nature in which Shen had received her delivery had faded as the true significance of the document weighed upon her.

How odd it was, she thought, that such a small thing as a letter would have such an effect on her. But it was so, for the words printed on the paper that was undoubtedly within the envelope on the table would dictate the course of her life for a very long time to come.

Were her bid to be accepted by the newspaper, it would be the realization of a dream. However, she would most likely have to leave everything she knew behind in order to take that step: her family and her home. The thought of taking that step into the unknown was at once chilling and exciting, and the mixture of these emotions twisted her stomach into uncomfortable shapes – and she hadn't so much as _touched_ the letter.

But this moment and all its gut-churning fear was something that she had wanted. So, allowing the wistful smile that that knowledge brought to cross her lips, she picked up the letter, tore the adhesive that kept the envelope sealed, and peered inside.

Within the envelope was a single sheet of paper, folded twice upon itself in order to allow it to fit inside its prison. And as she unfolded it, words came into focus.

 _Dear Ms. Ariae,_

 _We at the Hoenn Standard Times wish to inform you that we have received your portfolio and request to be considered for the position of Field Journalist. As you may know, one opening for this position was recently made vacant. Amongst the many applications that we have received for this opening, we have chosen to select yours for further scrutiny, and are pleased to offer you a paid trial period in which we may test your skills._

 _This 90-day trial period, set to commence upon your arrival at our office in Mauville City, will take place in the Kalos region. This is an area that we wish to open up to our readers, many of which will never travel, and we wish to allow you the opportunity to work in our branch in beautiful Lumiose City._

 _As your pictures will allow an entire continent to experience a new world from the comfort of their homes, workplaces, and anywhere they may wish to read a newspaper or make use of our PokéNav application, we expect any images that you send to us to be of the highest quality. Your colleagues in the Kalos region will assist you in ensuring that this expectation is met._

 _If you wish to accept this offer, please notify our office by phone within three days of receiving this letter. We hope that you will enjoy your time spent with us!_

 _If applicable to yourself, please ensure that you take no more than one Pokémon along with you to your posting, for space on our transit system is limited._

 _Sincerely,_

 _\- Leoric Blomford_

 _Editor-In-Chief, Hoenn Standard Times_

Shen stared at the paper for a good ten minutes, reading and rereading every line to make sure that the letter wasn't a hallucination.

 _Oh, my God. Oh, my God. This… this can't be real._

Even though she'd known the extent of her accomplishments at home, she hadn't truly been prepared for her application to even be _considered_ for a position, let alone accepted for it. The fact that it had been – the proof inherent in the letter she held in shaking fingers – was a world-shattering experience, something that logic dictated could not possibly be true.

 _They want me to work for them._

That knowledge alone was the key to a world filled with opportunity. Working with a newspaper would enable her to travel, to see places that no one else could access without an entire team of Pokémon and a great deal of influence. It was everything that she'd dreamed for – a dream now come true.

Rhea, however, was not able to see the letter herself. Because of this, she had watched the color drain from her daughter's face, but though she wanted to say something, to understand just what the letter she'd gotten had contained, she kept silent. Shen, after all, looked as if she'd shatter if pressed about it. After a while longer, though, her daughter lowered the paper and settled back into the couch with a long, drawn-out sigh, and Rhea finally got the chance to find out what was going on.

"What is it, honey?" she asked. "What did they say?"

"Well… they want to hire me, Mom. They saw my portfolio, and they want me to come work for them. They're looking for someone to help in the Kalos region, so I'd have to get there first, but it pays really well, and…"

She trailed off as she noticed the look on her mother's face. Something had settled into those aging cheeks, deepening the creases that lined them, and though it took her a few moments to figure out the source of such a change, Shen was horrified to discover the specific emotion: pain.

Some deep, hidden part of her had known that telling her mother that she would have to leave the house – perhaps permanently – would wound the person that had kept her safe for her entire life. She was her only child, after all, and the only person to keep her company in the later years of her life, which had turned her once golden hair to platinum blonde and streaked her face with wrinkles. For that child to leave the house now and go overseas would be nothing more than a death blow to whatever hopes she'd had of keeping her daughter close and away from the dangers of the world outside their city – and Shen knew exactly how that would feel. "Oh, Mom…"

"It's okay, honey. It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes, but…"

She'd known the size of the wound she'd open, but actually _seeing_ it was something different, and in that moment, her resolve faltered. No dream job, no opportunity, _nothing_ was worth the stake she'd driven into her mother's heart. She could find something else to do, something closer to home. Something that wouldn't tear the two of them apart. She opened her mouth, prepared to make the sacrifice.

But Rhea saw her daughter's expression, the regret in her eyes, and smiled. "Honey, it's okay. Every little bird has to fly the nest sometime, right? And you're a big girl now – you don't need me to shelter you. Take the job. Go for that dream of yours, and make me proud, all right?"

A lump grew in Shen's throat at those words, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. When she finally swallowed it, her voice came out as a croak – but the words were heartfelt.

"Thanks, Mom."

-/-

After the necessary phone call was made to inform her new employer of her consent to their terms, and _long_ after the inevitable tears were shed between a mother and daughter about to be separated, Shen took the time to pack. Granted, she actually didn't have a lot _to_ pack: some spare clothes, a mini-tent, her makeup pouch, and her wallet, which folded neatly into her backpack. Her camera bag was attached to her pack, slotted into a special holder that held the two bags snugly together while allowing her easy access to the sole device that made her life worthwhile: her camera.

Her camera was something special. One of her uncles, an engineer at the Devon Corporation, knew of her dreams, and had given her a Devon Snaptech X – a prototype that he had designed himself – for her birthday present one year. He'd asked her to help him field-test it, and Shen had fallen in love with the thing almost instantly, for the camera was lightweight, easily stored, practically indestructible, and possessed many different firing modes. Unfortunately, all these features had been judged far too cost-ineffective for the camera's mass production, and though the list of its attributes had drawn the interest of many photographers, its expense had forced it to remain in the experimental phase until it could be produced without negatively impacting profits. As such, the only working model rested in Shen's hands, and she was only too happy to make use of it, knowing full well that many of her peers would have gratefully killed to get their hands on it.

Even thoughts of her camera, however, could not stall her for long. She had to leave, and so she picked up her backpack and slung it onto her shoulders, pausing on her way out to look into the mirror. A young woman looked back at her: someone of average height and average build. This woman had intelligently changed into a pair of cargo pants, a nylon shirt, a hiking vest, and some boots, but had indulged in a single vanity: a necklace, upon whose slender silver chain a red oval hung. A few errant tear-tracks still lined her cheeks, she saw, and these she wiped away.

She was ready. But though she didn't truly _feel_ ready, she walked downstairs, opened the front door of the house, and stepped into the world that awaited her. She didn't look back; to do so would have been to succumb to the doubt that plagued her despite her mother's reassurance.

 _Every little bird has to fly the nest sometime, right?_

Ten minutes later, she was outside the city limits. The sun was just beginning to rise above the cloud of soot that spiraled endlessly from the core of Mt. Ember, and even though she was leaving behind all she knew, Shen found a certain happiness in the fact that she was following her dream.

And keeping that happiness safely in her heart, she began her walk down the road to a new life.


	2. ii

Shen's first adventure lay in actually getting onto the main route that curved just beneath the hill that separated Lavaridge Town from the outside world. This in itself wasn't actually all that difficult; with the installation of the stairs that allowed tourists free passage to and from the area, all she really needed to do was walk down several hundred step to accomplish her very first goal on the road to becoming an ace photographer. But as she made her way down these steps, a certain thought occurred to her, the very appearance of which slowed her stride.

This thought concerned the fact that when she had sent her portfolio to the newspaper's publisher for consideration, she had not been able to hold back a fair amount of self-consciousness over the state of the images that she had placed within it. Some she had been rather proud of: one containing a tourist's shiny Blaziken had been the pride and joy of her portfolio. She had actually taken over seventy shots that day in order to get the one she liked, a true gem of a photo which caught the Fire-Type in the middle of a full-fledged Blaze Kick, the fury of its determination shaded only in the light of the sun that had just been setting behind Mt. Ember at the very moment her camera's shutter had closed, bathing the scene in waning light and painting the clouds in the background a set of shades that had captured the attention of everyone to see it from that moment forward. It was truly beautiful to behold, and she had placed it at the forefront of her collection in order to best display the extent of her growing talent.

But since that picture had been taken several years before her bid for a job at the national newspaper, she had had an idea: though she had already been accepted for the position, it would certainly help to show up for work with just a little more in the way of evidence to support her experience with a camera, wouldn't it? Her new employer had certainly agreed with her when she'd called to confirm her appointment with him earlier that morning; during her trip to Mauville, the editor-in-chief had suggested, she might be able to take a few more pictures to exhibit her skill.

" _You don't have to,"_ he had said, _"but it would certainly help us to understand just what you can do on the road. Don't feel pressured to be perfect – just take some snapshots of whatever you think might be good for an article."_

So as Shen stepped from the stairs to Lavaridge and onto Route 112, she began to look for opportunities. She knew that she wouldn't have to look far, for Trainers were usually scattered around the area, looking for a battle or a chat (usually the former). Such, though, was the life of a person whose fortune was made upon their skill and the understanding of the creatures they carried.

Becoming a Trainer was a relatively simple process: anyone with a Pokémon could go out, buy some assorted medicines, and start their journey without much else in the way of fanfare. The difficulty for such individuals lay in actually maintaining an income, for any money they made was directly tied to their ability to win battles. This particular fact was actually one of the major dissuasions for any adult looking to take the path commonly traversed by the younger members of the population, but Shen wasn't really interested in the issues keeping older people from becoming Trainers. What she _was_ interested in was who and what she could take pictures of.

Thankfully, a subject was almost immediately given to her.

"Go, Flareon! Use Fire Spin!"

A smile lit the photographer's lips as the call, given by a Trainer just to her right, resulted in a flash of light that burned the morning mist away. Their Pokémon was currently engaged in a battle with another Trainer's Machop, who attempted to fend off the constricting flames with dirt kicked up from a sudden sweep of the foot. This was a largely futile effort, for the Flareon simply added even more heat into the area in which the two were battling, and soon the Fighting-Type found itself surrounded by a whirling vortex of fire.

Had she had to tell the truth, Shen actually enjoyed Pokémon battles. Fights such as these, with two people cheering on companions that they had traveled with for times unknown, were a display of the bond that was forged between human and Pokémon through hard work, perseverance, and friendship. Whole books could be written, she knew, about the adventures of such teams, and many books had.But to her, a battle was more than the simple affirmation of a bond: it was a statement of _life,_ and as such, these fights were some of the most beautiful things in existence. How could she _not_ freeze those moments to share with others?

Unslinging her camera bag, she lifted the device out of its protective felt casing, took a general-use lens from a storage compartment, and fitted the two together. Focusing the lens required only a moment of peering through the viewfinder and making the necessary twists; soon, she turned the camera to take in the battle, grinning at the way the floating embers from the Fire-Type's tail lit up the air.

She only needed a few snaps to capture the scene, making sure to keep at least some of those floating embers within the shot for the best effect. The Trainers were far too preoccupied for her to properly thank them for letting her take the pictures, though, so she decided to move on.

The next group of people had just started their battle, and Shen took a few moments to capture several shots of an encounter between a Beautifly and a Breloom, two creatures that weren't often seen in her little portion of the continent. Because of this, she paid a little more attention to detail when taking their pictures, zooming in to catch the patterns on the Bug-Type's wings as it fluttered forward on a Silver Wind.

 _Very nice,_ she thought, taking a shot just as the Breloom retaliated with a Sky Uppercut, its arms suddenly extending to an amazing length in order to better reach its opponent. There weren't many still shots of something like that, she knew, since it was fiendishly difficult to actually _time_ the picture to capture that single second when the Grass-Type shot its normally stubby arms forth as if they were made of springs. Fortunately enough, she could cheat with her camera's burst-fire capability, so it was with a certain amount of smugness that she holstered her equipment, thanked the dueling pair's Trainers as best she could in the midst of their battle, and continued down the road.

-/-

The first Trainer she actually _spoke_ with was one who had just finished a match. This person, a middle-aged man, had chosen a wide rock to sit himself on for refreshment, sipping a bottle of water. When Shen approached him, he offered her another bottle, which she politely declined.

She quickly found that this man's name was Henry, and that he was on his way to Fallabor Town in order to attend a conference for his company, which dealt in outdoor goods and supplies. Since driving a vehicle through the sand-swept wastes of the desert that lay further up the road was all but impossible, however, he'd had to walk from his home in order to reach the area.

"And it's just as well that my boss is fine with giving a man extra time for battles when he sends him out this far away from home," he said, taking another sip. "Fighting the kids out here is fun, but having to turn around every time someone catches a glimpse of you takes way too long when you're trying to get somewhere."

"But you'll have enough time to get to your conference?" Shen asked. She knew the demands that such battles took: like Henry had stated, they were fun, but a single Pokémon confrontation could take up to fifteen minutes per combatant. And as the rule that two Trainers absolutely _had_ to fight upon the very moment contact was established still stood firm, it could take someone nearly two months to travel the length of Hoenn on foot due to the constant cycle of 'battle, Pokémon Center, and battle again'. It was a standard of a Trainer's life, but there were those moments when it got to be far too much trouble.

"Oh, plenty of time," he replied. "I left almost three days before I was supposed to be even this far along. But what's your story?"

Shen opened her mouth, thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm a photographer for the _Times._ Just heading back to the office." Internally, she practically squealed at having said something like that so nonchalantly. She hadn't intended to say that exact sentence, but the opportunity to try out her new title had been too much of a temptation to resist. And after using it, she decided that it felt _incredibly_ good to do so.

"I see," he said. "Well, if you're a photographer, would you like a shot of my Pokémon?"

She hadn't thought about trying for that – the conversation had distracted her. "Oh, yes. Yes, I would, if you don't mind."

The man nodded, and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small orb from the depths of its containing fabric: a Poké Ball. There wasn't a soul on the planet who didn't know what one of _those_ was, for they were quite possibly the most important items in a person's life. They were bridges over the gulf that stretched between humanity and Pokémon, a way for friendships to start and grow, and as such, they had not simply become a symbol of that friendship, but a standard of existence.

As Henry pushed the button on its otherwise smooth surface and enlarged the device to the relative size of his fist, Shen had to wonder just what was inside that ball. Most Trainers in Hoenn made a habit of taking along a smaller Pokémon on any sort of trip, such as a Poochyena or Electrike. These were simple enough to catch and even simpler to take care of, and were fairly popular amongst the general public. They were _so_ popular, in fact, that Shen had countless pictures of these two species due to the nearly endless stream of tourists that ran through her home. But the man that tossed the ball so casually into the air didn't seem like a person who would take along – or even care all that much about – a low-maintenance partner. And she was right.

With the characteristic flash of blue light that heralded the release of its occupant, the Poké Ball brought forth a creature that towered above the photographer's head. It shook its head, stretching a pair of leathery arms towards the sky… and Shen's eyebrows rose as a Garchomp shook the cobwebs of what was most likely sleep from its head.

"This here's Caesar," Henry said, walking up to pat the dragon's shoulder. "He wasn't much of a fighter once, but a few years and a lot of battles help that kind of thing out." He recoiled as his companion butted him on top of the head with its chin, a look of faint offense twisting the edges of its mouth. "Okay, okay! I'm not telling _everyone_ about that, am I?"

Despite herself, Shen chuckled at that – the man was obviously close to his Garchomp. But humor didn't divert her from her primary goal, and her camera was up in mere moments, her fingers already switching the lens to something a bit more suited for a larger Pokémon.

"Well, then," she said. "Would you mind trying out a few positions for me?"

-/-

The next half hour was spent with Shen directing both Trainer and dragon into assuming various poses: some standing, some triumphant, and one that required the Garchomp to actually run towards her while the photographer toggled the burst-fire on her camera, collecting a plethora of shots. These were later scrolled through, and she selected the two that produced the effect that she'd been looking for: a first-person view of a charging dragon, captured with all of the emotion that anyone _faced_ with a charging dragon would undoubtedly feel.

As a professional courtesy, Shen sent a copy of the best of these two pictures to Henry's Pokénet mailbox directly from her camera, which he immediately pulled up on his PokéNav, his Garchomp looking over his shoulder at the tiny screen all the while. Both seemed satisfied with the results, if anything could be read from the Pokémon's sudden smile, and for a moment, the girl basked in the glow of having her work appreciated. In the next moment, though, she remembered the fact that she actually had someone _else_ to send her work to, and she put her camera back in its case, preparing to say her goodbyes and return to her journey to Mauville City.

However, she didn't get the chance to say what she'd wanted to, for Henry looked up from his device with a peculiar look on his face.

"Hey. You'd like the chance to get some more pictures, right?"

"Yes, I would," Shen said, the slightest hint of apprehension creeping into her tone. She was getting concerned about staying in one place too long; if she didn't continue walking, having to explain the amount of time that she'd taken to get from her home to the newspaper's office in Mauville to her new employer would be anything but simple. But the Trainer had allowed her to take some good pictures, so she let him continue.

"Well," he said, closing his PokéNav with a _snap,_ "I just got a message from a friend of mine at work. One of his friends called him to say that they saw a pretty rare Pokémon in the forest nearby, and they wanted to see if I could catch it for them. I'm not really sure what _kind_ of Pokémon it is – they just said that it was white. I have some extra time, so I might as well see if I can find it." He shrugged. "If you want to tag along, you can – you might get some photos of whatever's in there." The word 'there' was accompanied with a jerk of the thumb at one section of the stretch of trees that lay behind him, their broad and leafy tops stabbing into the sky like a set of green fingers.

Shen knew that forest, for Hoenn had one of the largest spans of foliage in the known world. Trees utterly _festooned_ any pathway not explicitly carved out by mankind for mankind's own usage, blocking off the civilized world for the purpose of establishing a second world: a world filled with wild Pokémon. Unfortunately, it was also incredibly dangerous to be walking in that forest, since wild Pokémon were far less… reasonable than their tamed counterparts. She _did_ have to admit, though, that the offer was tempting, since the chance to take some more pictures to the newspaper's main office was something that she very much wanted to take advantage of. But going into a dark and empty place with someone that she didn't know didn't really sit well with her.

 _Candy from strangers, Shen,_ she warned herself. _You've heard enough stories about people going missing in the woods. And who's to say that this guy isn't someone that you don't want to get mixed up with? He might just be a…_

Her train of thought was interrupted by a flash of movement behind one of the trees in the distance. It was so sudden, so slight, that she nearly missed it, but for the merest fraction of a moment, she saw _something_ pass into the forest.

Something white.

 _What… what is that?_

Henry was looking at her a bit oddly, but she barely noticed the change in his expression, so focused was she on what she'd seen. Her eyes raked across the treeline, searching for another hint of white.

 _No, that can't possibly be what he's looking for,_ she thought after a few seconds, the sudden lurch of anxiety that had gripped her heart fading. _That'd be absurd. Heck, I've barely even_ heard _about this 'rare Pokémon' that he's talking about; for all I know, that's probably some guy just trying to take a shortcut through the woods back to his house! It'd be insanely uncommon for something like that to show up just as I've heard about it. Granted, it would be nice to if that_ were _true, but as it is, it might be better for me to just get back on the road._ And so she shrugged, returning her attention to the man in front of her. "Actually, I think that I'll be okay with the shots I have. I really need to be getting over to the office, anyway."

"Well, all right," he said. "To be honest, I don't think that this kind of thing's anything but a wild Swanna chase, but it's a good way to kill some extra time, and-" His sentence faded as Shen's gaze whipped towards the forest again, drawn by something that he couldn't see. "Are... are you all right?"

But Shen wasn't listening, for deep in the forest, just barely visible to the eye, had come a second glimpse of something.

Something white…

The fact that she might have hallucinated that second sighting didn't even register. Neither did her duty to her new employer, her responsibility for keeping her schedule, or even her inhibitions about running into a potentially dangerous creature-filled forest. In the face of the discovery she'd made, the only possible reaction was one born purely of instinct.

 _I have to get a picture._

Hitching up her camera, she dashed after that gleam, disappearing into the forest.


	3. iii

The Hoenn Standard Times had long been hailed as a pioneer of its craft, and although it had only done one thing in its two hundred years of operation, it had long been decided that doing that one thing _well_ would be the standard of the newspaper company. It was the one expectation that the _Times_ had of its employees, and any of the hundreds of men and women toiling in that place would have told a curious mind that regardless of how high on the ladder a person was, the rule was the same: _do your job well._

Because of that rule, the _Times_ had also been hailed as a very nice place to work, for it was a far more open-minded place than most other places of employment. A paper boy's word was the equal of a manager's where grievances were concerned, and the facility supervisor had even gone so far as to post up signs saying as much throughout his building in order to encourage the reporting of misconduct, though actual complaints were few due to the relatively equal footing that any employee could enjoy when placed under the spotlight with their coworkers. This in turn made the supervisor's job far easier, and made the man himself far more jolly during the day.

But every morning, just before the place got busy, the supervisor met with the chief editor for coffee and a chat. It wasn't a typical social call; the two discussed local events and pored over articles turned in by reporters overnight. Coffee and the odd donut made the pile of paperwork bearable, though, and the supervisor tended to look forward to these meetings for the pleasant warmth that his drink brought his stomach, if nothing else.

As he opened the door to the editor's office, he found the man already sitting at the coffee table that stood in the middle of the room, picking through papers.

"Hey, Leo."

Leoric Blomford was getting along in years: the once sable hair that he'd proudly borne in younger years was now shot through in places with gray, and though he kept his beard trimmed, there was that subtle bit of unkemptness that hinted at a wilder man, now suppressed by the burden of age and responsibility. Nevertheless, he stood up, shook his colleague's hand, and motioned to the steaming mug of coffee and frosted pastry sitting on the other side of the table.

"Good morning, Joe. Help yourself; there's something I need to finish looking through first."

The supervisor did, sitting down and taking his mug and donut without ado. "So, what's the word today?"

"Honestly? The usual," Leoric replied, not taking his eyes off of the paper that he held in one hand. "There hasn't been much in the way of anything interesting that's happened in the past few days."

"No fires?"

"No."

"No big crimes?"

"None that we haven't already covered."

"No… Pokémon outbreaks?" Joe said, digging deep into the intellectual barrel for that option.

"No, nothing. It's mostly agriculture and stargazing that's been of much interest these days, and we can't go on posting the same thing every week."

"What about those Gym Leader interviews you were doing?"

Leoric shook his head. "We just sent the last one off with this week's issue." Sighing, he set his paper down, picking up his own coffee cup in the same motion. "You know, it's almost frightening how stagnant the place gets in the spring. Right after we run the holiday themes, we're practically running on fumes for five months."

It was a common understanding in the office that the editor-in-chief was a bit passionate when it came to getting a good paper out. Granted, that _was_ the requirement for those who worked for the _Times,_ but Leoric took things somewhat further than his predecessors in his sometimes fanatical drive to make every single paper a 'good paper'. Joe knew this very well; in ten years of working with – and sometimes against – the man, he'd seen him go so far as to completely scrap a draft in favor of something entirely different only hours before printing, throwing everything and everyone in the building into a frenzy with the pressure of coming up with an entire week's run on the spot. But no one really complained, because every single time 'Loony Leo' (as some of the junior managers called him) actually did something like that, the paper turned out perfectly tuned to the needs of its readers.

Every. Single. Time.

So though Joe understood perfectly well that there wasn't any real danger of stagnation where the paper was concerned, he also understood that his colleague didn't really enjoy what he thought of as 'downtime', since even the possibility of having things go stale wasn't a situation that he wanted to court in his career. Thus, he exercised a bit of tact and decided to change the subject. "So what's this I've heard about that girl you hired on the other day?"

"It was today, actually." A bit more life returned to the editor's expression as he said it. "She applied some time ago for that journalist position we advertised."

"And how's her work?"

Leoric reached into the pile of papers on the table and came up with a photograph, handing it over. "See for yourself."

Joe did. One of the pictures depicted a Blaziken – and a shiny one, no less! – in full flame, using a Blaze Kick in mid-air. The quality of the image was stunning; the photographer quite obviously hadn't skimped on the expense of her equipment. "Not bad at all. I like the way she caught the light – nice touch."

"Yes, it is. She's on her way over here to introduce herself before I send her off to Kalos for her dry run."

"A dry run? Wait, you're not actually going to be _paying_ her for that, are you?"

"Why not? Her work's good enough; I did some research before I contacted her. She's apparently a sensation in her hometown, and some of the other rags have been knocking down her door to get her on board with them."

"Such as?" the supervisor asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, let's see." Leoric reached down to the table once more, picking up another sheet of paper. "There's the _Investigator,_ the _Primetime,_ and _Behind the Lines,_ for a start."

"Those gossip sheets?" Joe scoffed. Most of the _Times_ employees might have shared his sentiment; there wasn't any love lost between the newspaper and the magazines that mainly built their empire on juicy half-truths and wild accusations. "That's hardly a resounding endorsement."

"Maybe, but she's had her work featured on the _Minute,_ and that's good enough for me."

That one brought the supervisor up short. The Global Minutewasn't your standard paper: it was the single most popular source of media on the planet. They had a television channel that was completely dedicated to round-the-clock news, a daily newspaper, a radio station, and even a PokéLink site with regularly updated articles, which cemented their place as the undisputed king of information. But that wasn't the only part; the _Minute_ was almost insanely picky about what work they used in their publications. Many of their stories had won awards. Many of the pictures _in_ those stories had been transferred to museums as works of art. Still, if what his colleague was saying about his new employee was true, and this person _had_ had a picture on those glorious pages, that begged another question.

"Then why in the heck is she coming to work for us?"

"She says that it's been a dream of hers. Personally, I think she's crazy to apply here, since she could easily have landed a job at the _Minute_ with that kind of work. But," Leoric said, cracking a smile, "I'm not going to look a gift Ponyta in the mouth. Especially when one's fallen into my lap."

-/-

At that moment, the 'gift Ponyta' under discussion was doing something that many would have considered to be very, very unwise: running pell-mell through the Hoenn forest, dodging rocks and branches and other such obstacles that nature placed in her way. Truth be told, she didn't really see them, for she was too far gone with sheer excitement.

If there was a specific joy that Shen took out of her chosen career, it was the thrill of a new experience. Photography was something that she'd originally taken up as a hobby, but as she'd come to understand the beauty of it, it had evolved into nothing less than an obsession. Each picture allowed her to freeze time itself, opening a window into an aspect of life. There were _always_ new details to be found within each shot, new pieces of the world to be explored, even if these pieces were nothing more than the very grains of dust kicked up from a foot or stray breeze. In her more philosophic moments, she might have likened the sensation to that of looking at the world through a microscope, for it was the ability to see things in a new light that fueled the fires of her passion.

That passion, in turn, often drove her to dispense with the thing that some might have called 'higher judgment' in the pursuit of a new snapshot, and it was because of this quirk that she had dashed into the forests of Hoenn without even so much as a second thought. Through the trees she ran, heedless of the danger, all to sate a need that clawed at her even more than hunger or thirst. For in the world that she had found herself in, the picture that she had to take was all the sustenance she needed. And no amount of foliage would stand in her way.

 _I have to get the picture. I_ have _to._

Thus was the extent of her thought process, and it was this single-minded focus that nearly had her dashing past her next glimpse of the very thing she sought. Out of the corner of one eye, she saw yet another flicker of white, and she skidded to a halt in what her frenzied senses eventually recognized as a clearing.

A few moments' pause allowed just enough intelligence to surface for her to realize that this particular clearing was actually rather beautiful. Though she'd run through a barrage of leaves and branches on her way into it, the area that she stood in was completely devoid of anything other than the grass that carpeted the ground for several hundred feet in front of her. The air, however, was filled with the scent of Cheri blossoms, and with a start, she realized that the trees that ringed the clearing were in bloom, the flowers that would eventually bear fruit waving in the slight breeze that blew over the treetops. This was definitely something that she hadn't seen before, and as such, she raised her camera, snapping a picture of the fluttering trees before the moment of awe passed her by.

Satisfied with her newest shot, she looked down, away from the trees… and saw what she had been pursuing.

And she stopped dead.

Dimly, she remembered that she'd seen one once. Only once, on a holiday television special that she'd watched with her mother. And even then, the picture had been so grainy as to give her only an idea of what the diaphanous figure actually looked like. But now… now, one was right in front of her, a pillar of white in the grass.

 _A Gardevoir._

The Psychic's appearance presented an opportunity that she'd never even _considered_ she'd have in her life as a photographer. Not when she'd been at home. Not when she'd been applying for the newspaper. And _certainly_ not on her _very first day_ as a professional field journalist!

As a Pokémon, a Gardevoir was one of the most popular choices of the older, wiser generation of Trainers. Their dual Psychic/Fairy nature provided unique advantages for those who chose to battle with them, but the main result of their popularity was due to their appearance. These Pokémon were _gorgeous:_ with long, flowing gowns, slender figures, and neatly coiffed hair, they stood as objects of distinction, of feminine beauty that even some humans envied. Magazines loved them, movies adored them; some regions – notably Kalos – even had actors that worked with their own Gardevoir, such as Diantha.

 _Someone up there must really, really love me,_ she thought, reaching ever-so-slowly to her camera bag. She couldn't afford to scare the Pokémon off, not when she could almost _taste_ the quality of the picture to come. Not when she knew that getting a shot of a creature that rare would be a priceless representation of her skill as a photographer.

Her fingers trembled on her camera as she tugged it from her bag; it was only with a supreme force of will that she was able to steady them long enough to move the device into position.

 _Steady, girl… just aim and shoot. It's as easy as falling off a log. Just aim and…_

…and it was gone.

 _What? No! Where'd it…_

Startled, she looked away from the viewfinder, searching the clearing for the missing creature. Something flickered in her peripheral vision, and she spun around, aiming the camera towards… nothing.

Horror entered her heart at that. Had the Gardevoir disappeared? Used Teleport to poof itself away in a Psychic-Type's insult to intruders everywhere? It _couldn't_ do that, not when she'd come all this way into the forest just to get her shot! Not when she'd practically risked her life in…

…and then a warm, damp wind brushed her right ear, and the photographer froze. Slowly, she turned her head, and saw that the creature was leaning over her shoulder, peering down at the camera that she so reverently held in both hands. After a moment, the Pokémon stepped around from behind her, bringing itself directly in front of the person who had tried to take its picture. This angle of inspection seemed to be what it had been looking for, and it bent to take an even closer look at what she was trying to do with her camera.

It was very close, she realized. Had she wanted to, she could easily reach out and touch the fabric of its gown… but though she almost did as that particular thought registered, something else did, too.

Its chest was bare. Clothed, yes, in the sheer material that all of its species wore so proudly. She was even close enough to actually be able to see that chest rise and fall with each breath it took, shifting the fabric ever so slightly with the movement. But...

 _How very odd,_ she thought, looking over the area where something red would normally be proudly protruding. Had the creature gotten into a fight and lost its horn? Or had it not been born with one at all? Regardless of how it had happened, though, the fact that it _had_ happened only enriched the opportunity that had been given to her, improving the quality of the picture that she had yet to take. And taking that picture was absurdly simple: all she had to do was raise her camera. But in order to get a proper shot, she would have to step back from the Psychic so that she could focus on it, and that action could possibly serve as one that would cause it to flee. That kind of conundrum was maddening: here was a chance to capture an image, a chance that she might not have again, and _she didn't dare take it!_

For endless seconds, the photographer and Pokémon stood there, their mutual attentions on her camera the only tie that held them. But the desperation that she felt couldn't be held back for long, and soon the need to move, to actually snap the picture that she was dying to take, was almost overwhelming.

She was just about to throw caution to the wind, to make the gamble of moving, when a massive _crash_ echoed through the forest. The sound was so loud, in fact, that she jumped, forgetting all about the creature in front of her as she turned her head with a jerk to the area where she had entered the clearing.

The trees in that direction were shaking, waving like mere twigs in the wind as something moved through them. Before she could turn her thoughts to running, though, one of them exploded forward, passing her on the right as she stood there, stunned.

 _What in…_

"Hey, lady!"

Right behind the path of the tree came a very familiar – if dusty – Garchomp, its Trainer holding tightly to its shoulders as the Dragon-Type moved forward to stand at her side. Panting like a bellows, the Pokémon leaned down so that the man on its back could slide off and face the person he'd followed into the forest.

"Man, lady, what the heck is your problem?" Henry said, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's not safe out here! What would happen if something came after you, huh?"

"But… but I saw it," Shen stammered.

Exasperation turned to confusion. "Saw what?"

She pointed. "That."

Amazingly, the Gardevoir was still there after the tree had flown past it. It had retreated nearly a hundred feet from where it had been inspecting Shen's camera, but it was still very visible in the midday sun, and as the man's eyes followed her finger, confusion turned to surprise. "What… oh, no way. That's a Gardevoir, isn't it? You don't even see one of those out this far inland. What's it doing _here?"_

"I have no idea," she said, shaking her head. "But it's incredible, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's incredible," he said. "And I think that it'd be even _more_ incredible if I were to catch it."

"What?"

A grin split the man's lips, and he pointed at the Psychic, drawing himself fully upright.

"Caesar? Take it down."


	4. iv

As the dragon began to move past his Trainer, Shen looked over to where Henry was standing. He was quite obviously anticipating the battle to come, but though the photographer was excited to have the chance to witness such an encounter, a bit of regret still haunted her. After all, she hadn't really had the chance to properly photograph the Psychic before Henry had barged into the scene; his presence there was welcome for the spirit of safety, yes, but his arrival had been far too early for her liking.

 _I guess that I can wait, though. If he catches the Gardevoir, then I can take as many pictures as I like later on. That'd be nice._ She didn't want to think about what would happen if he failed to catch it, though. It wasn't a concept that she thought she could bear.

The Garchomp had progressed about halfway across the clearing at this point, but as it began to move even closer to its opponent, the Gardevoir turned its gaze from Shen to the Dragon-Type. The Garchomp abruptly stopped, planted its feet on the grass, and _roared_ at its opponent, causing a storm of leaves and small pebbles to go flying downrange.

The Psychic didn't move. Didn't even _blink._ But as the roar died down, it did something else: it turned and began to walk towards the trees on the other end of the clearing.

 _It's ignoring him,_ Shen saw. _Does it not want to fight?_

The answer to that question was very obviously 'no', since the Gardevoir was putting a considerable amount of distance between itself and the humans that had found it. Henry, however, did not seem about to let the Pokémon he'd come across just walk away.

"Hey, Caesar. Toss that twig at it, won't you?"

The Garchomp nodded, took three lumbering steps forward, and crouched down in the tall grass to wrap its wings around the tree that had been snapped in half and thrown by the Dragon-Type's entrance into the clearing earlier. As the girl watched, it lifted what remained of the tree over its head and heaved it forward, sending it soaring through the air to land directly in front of the Psychic's path. A _crunch_ rang through the area as the leafy barrier impacted the earth, and Henry placed a hand to his mouth to make a makeshift megaphone.

"Leaving so soon? Why not get to know my friend here first?"

Slowly, the Gardevoir turned, facing the humans once more, and the photographer cringed as the heat of its stare bored into her. No, not into her, she saw: into _Henry_ , whose lips curved into a smirk as the Psychic began to walk again… but _towards_ him instead of away, where safety might have been.

"Caesar," Henry said.

The Dragon-Type needed no other command. Its muscles bunched, propelling it forward in nothing less than an explosion of speed. As it ran, a stream of purple-blue energy began to spin around it, taking the shape of the air that the creature was displacing.

 _That's a Dragon Rush,_ Shen realized. A hideously powerful move, used by berserkers to force their opponent's submission by the overwhelming impact of several hundred pounds of mass. However, the user had to commit themselves to a wild dash in a straight line, and so…

The Gardevoir put out one leg, placed it on the ground a few feet away, and sidestepped. A simple action, but effective; its opponent thundered past it like a freight train. Unable to stop its movement, the Garchomp disappeared into the trees at the far end of the clearing, crashing through the foliage beyond. And as the sound of snapping branches rang though the air for the second time in five minutes, the Psychic continued towards its destination.

"It's coming this way," Shen said, half to herself.

"Hey, don't worry," Henry said. "Caesar's got this one."

A rumble echoed through the air as he said this, and Shen looked on as the ground just before the Psychic began to bulge upward, finally exploding in a shower of dirt and grass to reveal the Garchomp's lunging figure, one leathery wing raised to deliver a crushing strike. It had dug underneath the ground, the photographer realized, displaying its natural talent for cutting through earth as easily as it carved through the air in order to gain an advantage in the fight.

As the girl watched, the Garchomp's arm came scything down… and the Gardevoir dropped to one side, sliding beneath the airborne dragon and its heavy blow. Not having expected its opponent to vanish, but too late for any adjustment in momentum, Caesar's lunge overbalanced the Pokémon to such a degree that it was sent headfirst into the ground with a muted _thoom…_ and the Psychic, getting to its feet from the end of its slide, continued to approach.

"Hey, Caesar!" Henry shouted. "Don't just let it do that to you; fight it!"

Shaking its head, the dragon got to its feet. It looked rather surprised, Shen noted, but that emotion faded quickly as the words from its Trainer registered, and it geared itself up for another charge, shooting forward to confront its opponent. But unlike the last time it had used that tactic, it stopped short of the Gardevoir, spinning around and sending its tail flying at the Psychic's unprotected back. Or, at least, that was what Caesar _tried_ to do. But the massive roll of scale and flesh passed through empty air, and the Garchomp continued to spin until its own force dissipated enough for it to stop. It wobbled, clearly rendered dizzy by the unexpected movement, and the photographer's eyes went wide.

 _No way._

Amazingly, the Gardevoir was standing on the Garchomp's head, its gown catching the faint breeze. Before the Dragon-Type could react, it hopped from its perch, landing smoothly on the ground behind its opponent, and continued walking toward the man that stood at the edge of the clearing. As it walked, its expression morphed into something other than blankness, and with a start, Shen realized the exact nature of the situation she'd inadvertently found herself in.

Henry, in his zeal to capture a new Pokémon, had done something that not too many people did lightly: he'd aggravated a Psychic. There were many reasons not to do that, but one of the most noteworthy was the simple fact that a creature that could – and, in the case of a wild Psychic, sometimes _did_ – pull the arms and legs off of something that proved itself an annoyance was not a creature to be irritated. And as this was _especially_ true when said creature could do those things just by _thinking_ about it, the girl began to back away.

 _Far better,_ she thought, _to be_ really _far away from this guy in case something happens. After all, I have a zoom lens, don't I? I could be halfway back to the road and still get a shot._

Thankfully, Henry was much too occupied to notice her retreat, involved as he was with the matter at hand. His Garchomp had become considerably more wary after having its efforts thwarted three times in the last thirty seconds; because of this, it was beginning to take his orders with reluctance.

"Caesar, come on!" he shouted, drawing the dragon's attention. "Use the terrain against it! We can win if we use Ground moves!"

Caesar nodded, and dove into the grass once more, sending up a tidal wave of debris as claws and wings tore into the soil better than any drill's labor could have hoped to accomplish. It was an impressive move, but Shen, standing some distance away by this time, wasn't too pleased with the sheer amount of dust an action such as that kicked up. The air was absolutely choked with it, and with that kind of screen between her camera and the action before her, no lens in the world would be able to snap the pictures she so desperately wanted to have. But she couldn't get in the way of a Pokémon battle, no matter how inconvenient it was for her, and so the only thing left for her to do was grit her teeth and hope that Henry won.

To his credit, Henry had sent his Garchomp into a kind of strafing pattern, having the dragon leap out of the ground temporarily in order to claw or fling rocks at its foe before disappearing back underneath the earth. Though the Gardevoir was continuing to dodge those moves as it walked, Caesar was launching these attacks incredibly quickly, and soon enough, there was a moment where its opponent was stuck dodging while the dragon was behind it. Henry caught this development instantly, and voiced the signal.

"Now, Caesar!"

Bursting from the earth, the Garchomp swung its arm at the Psychic's head. This time, its aim was true, and a resounding _thud_ was heard as scales met skin with enough force to break flesh and bone alike. Henry's grin resurfaced in that moment, and as the dust that had suffused the battlefield's atmosphere began to clear, Shen began to take a bit more interest in the proceedings. Perhaps she'd be able to get a picture after all…

…but something was wrong.

Something about the scene revealed by the thinning dust was _definitely_ wrong, for the Gardevoir hadn't so much as budged. One of its cheeks was visibly distorted from the pressure of the Garchomp's claw, but except for that, it stood firm, looking for all the world as if nothing had happened to it at all.

Shen felt her jaw lowering. _What…_

"…in the heck is that thing?" Henry finished, apparently having had the same thought. "That's not… that's impossible. _That's impossible!_ " This last utterance was shouted, a strangled voice expressing disbelief. And he was certainly right to shout, for there was no possible way that a creature as frail as a Psychic would be able to hold up under that kind of physical pressure.

But disbelief was held as the Psychic half-turned, curled the fingers of its right hand into a fist, and punched the larger Pokémon in the jaw from underneath. A thunderclap tore through the air at the impact, and as the Gardevoir withdrew its hand, Caesar's arm fell from its foe's head to hang limply at one side. This limpness was quickly mirrored by the rest of the dragon's body, and as Caesar began to crumple to the ground, the Psychic reached up with both hands, took hold of its opponent's arm at wing and shoulder, and _hurled_ the creature forward, sending two hundred pounds of scales straight at its Trainer. The result of that move was like hitting a matchstick with a brick: Henry, unable to react, was plastered by his companion's flying form and carried along for a good ten feet before gravity exercised its rights and sent both of them to the ground in an unruly pile, sharing a stay in unconsciousness.

As the grass kicked up by the impact settled, Shen turned her eyes towards the Gardevoir, who was dusting its palms off. Its expression had blanked once more, but after throwing something over twice its weight, she wasn't entirely sure what it would decide to do. Would it think her an intruder, as well, in league with the man who had tried to capture it?

The thought that she would do well to run faintly occurred to her, but the edge of the forest that she had originally emerged from was about a dozen yards behind her; in that moment, it could have well been a mile. And a Psychic could simply Teleport to wherever she ran, which would make running irrelevant…

 _What should I do? What_ can _I do? I can't just… oh, the hell with it!_

Frustrated, she lifted her camera, peered through the viewfinder at the Pokémon standing before her, and snapped a picture of… empty air. But she knew that game by now, and so she turned fully around, confronting the Gardevoir as it attempted to look over her shoulder again.

"Hey. I'm not with him, all right?" This statement was followed by a point in the direction of where Henry lay beneath his Garchomp. "I just came here for a picture. You know, a picture?" She waved her camera at the Psychic. "I wanted to get a shot for my newspaper. I'd really appreciate it if you let me take one of you before you ran off."

 _Not to mention that I'd_ _appreciate it even more if you didn't pull my limbs off with your brain…_

A ruby stare flicked from her camera to her eyes and bored into them with an intensity that nearly forced her to look away. Stubbornly, she held its stare, using her frustration to shore up her otherwise frayed nerves.

And the Gardevoir snorted. It was a faintly amused sort of sound, and as the noise hit her ears, the Psychic stood, crossed its arms over its bare chest, and waited. For a moment, there was silence. Then its head tilted, and she realized what it was waiting _for._

 _No way._

In an instant, she leapt to her feet, aimed the camera, and fired off a burst of twenty shots, fanning the shutter like her life depended on it. She didn't even have time to _glance_ at the viewfinder; it was muscle memory that directed her arms. But she knew that she'd gotten her picture, and that made her happy.

As she lowered the camera, stowing it safely back in its case, the photographer's face was beaming. "Thanks."

The Psychic didn't respond. Instead, it turned, resuming its journey through the clearing and into the line of trees on the other side. But though its departure had been a little cold, Shen didn't mind too much; she'd gotten what she'd wanted. Henry, however, hadn't, and as she remembered the Trainer's existence, her hand shot into a side pocket of her backpack, where an emergency satellite phone was safely stored away.

 _Well,_ this _has certainly been an eventful morning._

-/-

It took some time before the nearest hospital could send a team of paramedics to retrieve the fallen Trainer and his Garchomp, and early afternoon arrived before the pair could be carted out of the forest, where an ambulance awaited their arrival. With a bit of quick thinking and a tiny dash of outright fibbing, Shen was able to wheedle the paramedics into taking her along with them to the main medical center, stationed in Mauville City. After all, a friend of the incapacitated patient would be most suited for relating the details of how the patient had gotten into his specific medical situation and provide numbers for their next of kin, would they not? But even though Shen didn't actually have _any_ of that information, her confidence was far more than enough to fool a pair of well-meaning assistants, and because of this, she soon found herself on an express trip to the place where responsibility demanded she'd be.

Though they didn't really have all that far to go, the photographer found herself enjoying the ride over the packed dirt road, for the ambulance had unexpectedly had one of the best suspension systems she'd seen in a vehicle. Granted, that was only to be expected in something transporting the sick or dying, but the smoothness of her travel was like gliding on greased glass, and that was an experience to remember.

While she rode, she took the time to scroll through her collected pictures. The reason behind this action was twofold: first, she possessed an interest in what she'd taken earlier that day. She also wanted to avoid being spoken to while on the ambulance, which might have possibly exposed her fib for what it was. So as the vehicle sped towards its destination, she put her back against a wall and filtered through the morning's acquisitions.

 _It's been a_ long _morning, too,_ she thought, flicking over the shots of the Flareon that had dominated her first set of images. _Most of it was spent because I had to make sure that Henry here didn't get eaten or something out in the woods, but otherwise, it's been… pretty interesting._

The pictures of Henry's Garchomp had been something special, for she'd had the time and the opportunity to request specific poses from her subject. She'd had to take quite a lot of those due to the fact that more often than not, asking someone to act realistically in a picture when they knew that they were having their picture taken took a lot of realism _out_ of the picture. It was a bit ironic, but the knowledge that one would soon be on film tended to tense the muscles or force exaggerated actions, which had to be suppressed through repetition. As a result, she had to take more pictures, but the results were worth the effort once she broke through that tension and started getting some natural movement from her model.

But though she tried to keep calm while picking out the best shots from that second set, she could barely restrain herself from flipping to the true prize: the pictures of the Gardevoir. Those, no matter their quality, would be a jewel in her budding photographer's crown, and as she finished sorting through the Garchomp's images, she found her fingers shaking with excitement. What had she taken in that moment, that burst of snapshots seized with sheer stubbornness? She could hardly wait to find out, and so she pressed the necessary buttons on her camera, bringing the final set of pictures into view.

She was greeted with a black screen. Startled, Shen pressed a few more buttons, trying to raise the pictures that she'd taken, but no matter what she tried, the result was the same: nothing.

 _Wait, what? How could there be nothing? I_ know _that I took pictures of that Psychic!_

A few more button presses assured her that the camera itself hadn't encountered a glitch, which left her with little more than confusion… until she saw the message that had been left in one corner of the screen.

 _LENS CAP ON._

 _But I_ never _leave the lens cap on! I had it off before I started taking the pictures of that Gardevoir!_

But, she remembered, there was something else that she'd never done during that shoot: she hadn't actually _looked_ at her camera while taking the pictures. It had been a knee-jerk reaction, something fueled purely from instinct. And a Gardevoir was a Psychic-Type, which allowed it to use its powers to manipulate even the smallest of objects… like an all-size-fitting lens cap, which had been hanging from her bag in order to be close at hand for its eventual use.

 _It put the lens cap back on the camera before I took those shots,_ she realized. _And it stood there and let me take a bunch of dead photos._

Suddenly, she could sympathize with Henry; they'd both been swindled out of something by the creature they'd been chasing. But _unlike_ him, she was far from paralyzed by the discovery, for she had enough pictures to show her employer that she was serious about her position, and that was enough.

For the moment, at least.


	5. v

Upon the ambulance's arrival at the hospital in Mauville, Shen gave the paramedics that had been so kind to take her into the city some truth: that Henry had been expected in Fallabor Town, and for them to call into the conference that he had originally been going to in order to obtain any information related to his medical insurance. Then, with the promise that she was going to find a phone to call his family with, she departed the hospital completely and set out for what she'd _really_ arrived to do: visit the Hoenn Standard Times'main office. Though leaving the Trainer that had followed her into the forest so willingly did not come without guilt, something about Henry had made her rather uncomfortable. But he would be well taken care of in the hospital, so any harbored guilt was far from obstructing her goal.

In the years that had passed since Shen's first trip to Mauville City, a trip taken with her mother, the city itself had not changed overmuch. It, she saw, was still very much the playground of an electricity-obsessed Gym Leader, who had gone to great lengths to incorporate every child of his imagination into his hometown's culture. Neon signs, one of those concepts that never seemed to disappear, were _everywhere,_ advertising even the most frivolous of things (like two-for-one Poké Ball deals) with what seemed like unfitting aplomb. But this was part of the city's character, and although being bombarded with strangely-colored lights was not something that she particularly enjoyed, all she could do was resign herself to her multichromatic fate.

Still, there were certainly upsidesto the amount of signs that hovered around the area, and one of those was that a person could find their way around without very much in the way of trouble. Pokémon Centers were practically beacons in that sea of light, drawing Trainers in much the same way that honey attracted Combee, and the local Game Corner, one of the most popular public entertainment centers in the entire region, was wrapped in enough illumination that it resembled a miniature sun. Because of this, it didn't take long for Shen to find herself directly in front of the building that she'd been looking for, and it was here that she took a moment to reflect.

Up until this moment, she'd been somewhat unsure of the reality of her situation. After all, being handed the dream that she'd been working towards for years was one of those things that just didn't seem like it _happened_ when it happened to the person striving for just that opportunity. Standing in front of the office, however, brought things into focus, and the sharpness of that sudden clarity was disarming.

 _Well, here I am._

She was somewhat reluctant to enter the building, seeing as how most of the day had already been spent in getting to it. The person that she was supposed to report to might, after all, have left by this time, which would make her look rather awkward if she were to go in and ask after her new employer's whereabouts. But if they _were_ there, and she _didn't_ ask after them, that might create problems in and of itself. So that made more problems, and she hadn't even gone into the office yet!

 _Honestly,_ she told herself, shaking her head, _worrying like this isn't going to do anything. Stop thinking about it and go in there!_ And so she did, walking through the sliding doors and up to a receptionist's desk.

"Hi, there. My name's Shen Ariae; I have an appointment with Mr. Blomford. He wanted me to see him as soon as I arrived in the city."

The woman sitting behind the desk looked up from her computer screen, took in Shen's appearance, and raised an eyebrow. Eyebrow or not, though, her hand went to a nearby phone receiver, picked it up, and held it to an ear while her other hand pressed the necessary buttons.

"Mr. Blomford, you have someone here to see you. She says that you wanted her to… oh? Oh, yes. Shen Ariae. …Yes. Thank you, sir. I'll have her wait." With a _click,_ the phone returned to its cradle, and the receptionist returned her attention to Shen. "He'll be out in a moment. Please have a seat."

The photographer did so, and in the few moments that followed, her eyes wandered. The building that she was in wasn't particularly new, for though the rather spacious lobby was certainly nowhere near disrepair, it looked… used. Aged, even. But with age came understanding, a better sense of self, and so the appearance of that age was welcome, for it said quite a lot about the place she'd come to. There was even a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a thing made out of crystal that just managed to diffuse the light coming from outside-

"Well, now. You must be Miss Ariae."

Startled, Shen turned to see a man standing near her. She hadn't heard him approach, so engrossed had she been in observing the lobby. This man was quite obviously far into his middle age, having passed the summer of youth some time ago. Nevertheless, his eyes were warm, and his smile was warmer, coming from a face that she'd known from pictures and television spots ever since she'd first become interested in newspapers.

As the man's identity registered, she stood, holding out her hand with an equally warm smile lighting her lips. "Mr. Blomford! It's so nice to meet you, sir."

Leoric chuckled, and shook her hand. "Call me 'Leo'. Let's go to my office, shall we?"

-/-

Leoric turned out to be one of those managers that believed in greasing the wheels of a meeting with refreshments, and soon Shen was happily indulging in the sweet, sinful taste of a cup of hot chocolate and a jelly-filled donut alongside her new employer. Idly, she wondered if he exercised; if he consumed sweets on a regular basis, he would have _had_ to, otherwise he might not have been able to keep his relatively thin build…

"I'm glad that you were able to respond to my letter so quickly," he said, drawing her attention back to him. "You see, I wanted to explain exactly what I'm going to have you do, and the first part is very time-sensitive.

"What we – and by 'we', I mean the company – are going to do with you is send you to our new office in Kalos. It was a fairly recent decision on our part to make that leap to a different region, but to be perfectly honest, we needed to branch out. Stories in this area can get few and far between after major holidays, and since we've already constructed and refined our web of reporters in Hoenn, we thought it best to try to bring some of the stories from overseas out here. Stories aren't the only reason we wanted to branch out, however: in the last three years, we've had a wave of people from different regions emigrating to ours in search of a more rustic place to live. You might be able to imagine that these people get homesick, and since we want to keep them here, we'd like to bring a bit of their home to their door."

 _It's a marketing scheme,_ Shen thought, and then realized that she'd said the words out loud. "Sorry, I-"

"No, you're absolutely right," Leoric said, nodding. "It _is_ a marketing scheme. But schemes are what a business requires in order to continue funding itself, and because of that, we've been recruiting talent to go and supplant this project. This is why we hired you: you _have_ talent, and we need you to _show_ that talent on our behalf so that this newspaper might get a little more attention from the public."

That was fair enough for a newspaper, the photographer mused. After all, attention was the lifeblood of a source of information. Without attention, there would be no desire to purchase issues of that source's findings, and without purchases, there would be no money, which was quite possibly the most important thing for sustaining a business. And as much as some might have wanted to color a newspaper as a standard of life, a newspaper company was just that: a _company._ And since companies needed money, they needed every little bit of help that they could possibly get from their employees in order to _make_ that money. "So when do I leave?"

"After your donut," the editor replied, the smile returning to his face. "However, the status of your employment at this time is considered a trial period, so even though we'll be paying you for your work, we'll have to have you partnered up with someone while you're out on assignment. I'll have Joe, our floor supervisor, introduce you to your partner when we're done here, and the two of you can leave on the next ship out of Slateport."

After having said all that, though, Leoric leaned back in his seat and sighed. "But now that all _that's_ over with, let's get to the fun part. You said that you might be taking some extra photos on your way here, if I remember correctly. Did you manage to find some material?"

Shen was very happy to say that she had; in a burst of foresight, she had taken the opportunity to link up with one of the public computers in the hospital and upload her best shots to the _Times'_ servers before she'd left that building. And as her new boss flipped through her work with a grin splitting his cheeks, the photographer began to feel a warmth that wasn't due to the drink she'd been sipping.

 _I think I'll like working here._

-/-

It was about fifteen minutes later that Shen was introduced to Joe, a slightly balding man with a preference for tweed shirts. This man, Leoric explained to her, would be her _other_ boss, and she would report to him if he himself was not available. And with another handshake and a wish for good luck, the editor went back to his work, leaving Shen to follow the floor supervisor into the depths of the building.

Joe, she found, had a somewhat gruff demeanor, but he was honest, and that was far more than enough for her. The man did have a bit to say, though, and as they walked, he talked.

"Honestly," he was saying, "I don't know why you wanted to be with us instead of something like the _Minute,_ but we're glad to have you on board. Someone with your talent will really help out with getting the new office in Kalos some attention; there's already competition out there, as I'm sure you know."

Shen _did_ know about that. The Kalos region already had not one, but _three_ different newspapers running: the _Lumiose Press,_ the _Interregional News Weekly,_ and a cut-down version of the _Global Minute,_ the former and latter of which were highly popular throughout the continent. A fourth contender would find it difficult to step onto a field already dominated by two news giants; the battle would be mostly uphill. "Yes, but that's fine. I'll do whatever I can to help out."

"Good."

The next minute was passed in silence, but the faint twinge of guilt that Shen had felt, finding itself largely ignored where Henry had been concerned, chose to change its assault to something a bit more closer to home: the missing pictures of the Gardevoir that she'd taken earlier that day. At the time, she'd been excited to think that she would have been able to bring shots of something so rare to her employer's desk, but despite the fact that she knew that the loss of her photographs was not her fault, she felt bad about not being able to have the fruits of that extra bit of effort.

Before she knew it, the guilt had taken control of her tongue, and she looked to the man beside her. "Excuse me. Do you mind if I ask you something?"

Joe glanced at her, saw the worry on her brow, and smiled. "Speak your mind, girl. I won't bite your head off, I promise."

Shen pondered for a moment longer before speaking. "You know of those pictures that Mr. Blomford was looking through, right?"

The supervisor shook his head. "Call him 'Leo'. Everyone around here already does. But yes, I saw them when you sent them over earlier. They're pretty darn good, to be honest. Why?"

"Well, I had more than that, but I ran into a bit of a problem…"

Quickly, she outlined the issue with the Gardevoir she'd met in the forest and her failure to take its picture. It wasn't easy for her to admit that failure, and her guilt took the opportunity to stick another needle in her heart as she said it, but the grizzled man affected a knowing look afterwards.

"Oh, you ran into the White Flash? That's no problem at all."

"The… White Flash?"

"You're not the only one that's seen that Gardevoir of yours. Most everyone in the news business around here has heard about it at some point or another; it likes to wander around Hoenn. The damndest thing is that we've never been able to catch it, on film or otherwise, since it's taken a fancy to breaking both Pokémon teams and peoples' cameras. The lot down in the editing booth named it the 'White Flash' because that's really all anyone sees: a white flash. Can't say I blame it for trashing equipment, though; I'd hate for people to be following me around with cameras, too."

"How many people have actually seen it?"

"Oh, there's at least three other people that have run into it. Two of them were from those gossip rags that you see in the Poké Marts, and having that thing break their cameras is just about the best kind of justice that I can think of."

"How so?"

"Two top journalists from those rumormongers with smashed equipment? Their bosses must have thrown fits with all the money the company had to pay out for replacement cameras. That's fantastic; they make everyone's lives worse with all that gossip."

That sent a chill down Shen's spine. She'd encountered the Psychic, but unlike what appeared to be everyone else who had ever managed to find it, she'd escaped with a fully intact camera. Granted, thanks to her uncle's endeavors, _her_ camera was about the next best thing to indestructible, but one could never fully account for the abilities of a determined Pokémon. Despite the relief she felt over being able to keep her most precious possession, though, she still felt a bit of resentment over the situation. "Well, I'd still like to take that thing's picture."

"Good luck with that," Joe said. "But you seem to have kept that camera of yours after seeing it, so maybe you have a chance. If you _do_ see it again, though, tell it 'thanks' for me. I near laughed myself into a fit when I heard that those gossip men got their stuff broken."

By this time, the two had found their way back into the lobby. But as they walked into the room, something incredibly colorful blurred forward, wrapping the supervisor in an excited hug.

"Hi, Joe!"

Gingerly, the man extracted himself from the embrace of what appeared to be a young girl, smoothed his wrinkled shirt, and cleared his throat. "Daisy, you're going to knock someone down with one of those some day. You have to be _careful._ "

 _Daisy?_ Shen thought, looking the girl over. To be honest, it was hard to actually _see_ her due to her choice in outfit: the most orange sundress she'd ever seen in her life, coupled with cherry-red open-toed ankle sandals, an incredibly lime-green handbag, and of all things, a purple sun hat with a polka-dotted white ribbon wrapped around it. Blonde curls spilled from underneath the brim of that hat, and only one thing filled Shen's mind at that revelation: this girl looked like a walking paint explosion. But this girl seemed almost ludicrously happy, and despite her shock, the photographer found herself infected by her enthusiasm.

"Shen," Joe said, "let me introduce you to your partner. This is Daisy, and you two will be working together for the foreseeable future."

Shen's hand was taken and emphatically shaken up and down by the blonde-haired girl, whose freckled grin could have put the sun to shame.

"Hi! I'm Daisy! I just _know_ that we're going to be such good friends!"

 _Friends, huh?_ Shen thought. _Isn't that a little fast?_ Granted, Daisy _did_ seem like a nice person, but the places that she was taking what should have been a purely working relationship seemed a bit… odd. But maybe that was just her; she _had_ stayed inside her room for most of her life, after all.

"Daisy here has been with us for about a year," Joe continued. "She's one of the first people that joined our Kalos branch, and she's also one of our best journalists out there. She's been helping us to get the kind of interviews that keep people in that region from riding us out on a rail. But the team out there can't do everything by themselves, so we're sending you to help them out."

Reaching over to the receptionist's desk, the floor supervisor took a manila envelope from it, pressing it into Shen's hands. "These are your tickets for the _S.S. Cacti._ It sails from Slateport City in three days, and I want both of you to be on that ship before then. If you _do_ get there early, you can do whatever you want to kill time, but you need to be on that boat. Got that?"

Both girls nodded, and, after a moment, so did Joe.

"All right, then. You two get going."


	6. vi

Leaving the city was hardly a somber affair, for Shen's new companion was eager to know everything about the person that she'd come all the way from Kalos to see. But although Daisy was visibly bursting with questions as the two of them left the office, the girl was far more interested in assuaging another need.

"Oh, man, I'm _starving,_ " she said, putting one tanned hand on her stomach. "Is there somewhere to eat around here?"

"Didn't you eat anything on the way here?" Shen asked.

The journalist shook her head. "No! It'd be horrible for me to grab lunch when I had a new friend waiting for me. But now that you're here, we can _both_ get some dinner!"

Almost automatically, Shen checked the watch that was strapped to one of her backpack's shoulder straps. Early afternoon had, in her time within the office, transitioned to mid-afternoon. This was hardly unexpected, but there was a small concern attached to such things: their time limit. Three days to travel to a town only ten or so miles away was actually quite generous, but it would be very simple to grow complacent with their surplus. "Well, maybe we can grab something on the way…"

"But then we can't talk! _Everyone_ knows that the best kinds of friendships start with sit-down dinners, so we _have_ to do that."

Shen wasn't so sure about the friendship part of that sentence, but Daisy seemed pretty adamant about finding a place to sit down and eat. So, turning, the photographer scanned the street for one of the most helpful features of Mauville City: a directory.

Mauville had grown in years past, helped not in a small part by its status as the main hub in the Hoenn region. Funding flowed into the town on a regular basis through tourism, for anyone that wanted to get just about anywhere in the region had to pass through the same neon-powered barrage that Shen herself had. Because of this, the citizens had, for once, decided to usurp their Gym Leader's position as main architect for the city and redesign their home from the ground up. Now, the place looked like nothing less than the largest shopping mall in existence, paved with concrete-supported tiles and enclosed by high ceilings. There was even a park on the topmost floor, where visitors and their Pokémon could relax before carrying on their merry ways. For those that chose to stay overnight, there were low-rent hotels, suitable for sleeping… though not much else, if one was forced to be honest.

But while Shen's computer-supplied understanding of the city was vast, her _practical_ knowledge of the place she was in was lacking, and so, after a short search, she found her savior in a map of the area, displayed for all to see on a rather helpful sign embedded on one of the street corners.

 _Let's see. I could swear that they built a food court somewhere around here…_

"Ooh, how about that?"

With a start, Shen noted that Daisy had followed her over to the sign. The journalist was peering at it under a pair of rose-tinted sunglasses, but although the question suddenly sprang into Shen's mind as to just where she had _gotten_ those glasses, she didn't have time to put the query to words.

"Isn't that a food court? It's just a little south from us. Let's go there, Shen! I'm sure that they'll have something _fantastic_ to eat!"

And with that said, she took Shen's hand and dragged her off to their new destination.

-/-

The Mauville Food Court had been one of the first locations to open in the newly remodeled city, and this was because of one simple fact: that construction workers, like everyone else in the world, needed to eat. Tourists and Trainers were also subject to this rule, and as these people began to make their way through the area once more, the little spot became one of the city's iconic attractions. Battles were waged in that food court amongst Trainers who fought for precious seating space, but, thankfully, Shen and Daisy did not find themselves accosted by others as they secured an open booth.

Daisy, for her part, was absolutely ecstatic as she flipped through one of the paper menus that sat on their table. "Oh, wow! I just _have_ to have one of those ramen bowls. They're stuffed with toppings!"

Shen, her backpack placed on the seat next to her, was slightly less ecstatic about the situation. Still, she _was_ somewhat hungry after the day's adventures, and so she picked out her own meal from the list, writing down her choice on one of the food tickets that sat in a basket that had been helpfully placed on the far end of the booth. These had been a somewhat new addition to the food court, for not everyone wanted to fight for their right to sit down. Using a ticket instead of placing an order directly at one of the counters would allow a customer to completely avoid being bothered by Trainers during their meal, although the food court charged a nominal fee for its patrons' comfort. In this case, though, Shen was more than happy to pay the extra money, for her non-Trainer status would have most likely resulted in her having to relinquish her seat if someone else challenged her for it.

 _And after all the running around I've done today, sitting seems nice._

The completed tickets were quickly collected by a waiter, and while the two girls waited for their early dinner, Shen learned a bit more about the person that she'd been partnered with by her supervisor. The journalist, she discovered, had been born and raised in the Kalos region, exposed to the fresh air and clean living of the country. Because she'd been so exuberant as a child, her parents had suggested that she look into the career that she now held, and after a bit of studying and some freelance work, she had felt herself ready for the professional side of things. The only problem was that the publication offices in her area had not wanted someone who didn't have the level of professional _experience_ that they were looking for. Which, in Daisy's opinion, was kind of stupid, since the only way to _get_ that experience was by working _with_ said publication offices.

For Daisy, having the _Times_ open an office in her region had been the opportunity that she had been craving, as that business hadn't cared about things like 'professional' experience. What they wanted was talent, and she had been happy to give them every scrap of it she possessed. But the Kalos office was understaffed, so when word came that a new member would be joining their group, Daisy had made her way down to the main office in order to greet them.

"And I can't believe that that person was someone my age!" she said, practically bouncing in the booth. "I expected someone a lot older, but it's _fantastic_ that I can get to talk about normal stuff with someone else for once!"

Shen didn't exactly know what Daisy meant by 'normal stuff', but the sheer amount of happiness that the girl was exuding was catchy, and she felt her heart considerably lightened by the smile on that freckled face of hers. "Well, I hope that I'll do good over there. I've wanted this kind of job for a while now."

"Oh, don't worry about that. You'll do fine! I mean, you _got_ the job, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then that's all you need! You'll be perfect in Kalos, I just know it!"

Further debate over the subject was cut short by the return of the waiter, who placed a pair of trays on the table. "Your orders."

"Hey, thanks!"

Daisy's tray was pulled to a spot directly in front of her nearly before the waiter had set it down. As she'd stated, Shen saw, she _had_ gotten a ramen bowl: a rich, flavorful soup absolutely stuffed with long noodles and vegetables. But one might have been forgiven for failing to properly identify the dish, for it quickly became swept into a torrent of motion as Daisy tore into it with all the ferocity of a rampaging Snorlax.

 _Wow, she really must have been hungry,_ the photographer thought, looking down at her own meal. She'd ordered something lighter than what the other girl had: a sandwich and a side of fried Berries. The scent that wafted from her plate was mouth-watering, and in another moment, Shen joined her companion in devouring her meal. But it seemed that Daisy had a little more to say, for about a minute later, the journalist looked up from her bowl.

"Sho, whut pshishunn dud-" she started, then swallowed the mouthful of noodles she'd attempted to speak through. "So, what position did you apply for?"

"The Field Journalist position," Shen replied, wisely finishing her own bite of sandwich before trying to say anything. "It had a heavy emphasis on photography, so that's what I tried to get."

"That's great! I'm a Field Reporter, myself."

"Really? But didn't Mr. Joe back at the office say that you were a journalist, too?"

"Well, not exactly," Daisy said. "Technically, I'm a reporter, not a journalist; when Joe said that earlier, it's mostly because he knows I'll get miffed about it and correct him, and he wants me to do that. It's a game we play."

Shen hadn't known that, and she said as much. "But what's the difference? We both get stories, after all."

"Yep! But I only have to get the interviews for the office. People like youhave to do that, too, but you also have to write up the stories that eventually go into the paper, take the pictures that go along with the story, _and_ get the interviews on top of it."

The photographer had expected as much. Regardless of the focus on photography, doing the extra work required to get a full and compelling story had been part of her job description, but she wasn't new to typing up articles to go along with her pictures. She'd sold her postcards that way: each card sold by her hometown's Poké Mart contained facts about the region, the history of the subject on the card's face, and a trivia tidbit for tourists to quiz their friends with when they returned home. Still, she hadn't done that on a professional level before. "Well, I'm certainly glad that we're working together, then."

"That's why they had me come down here! I'm going to help you out with easing into the role. I mean, I'm sure that you have some experience around here, but you're probably going to be a bit overwhelmed by all the new things you'll see overseas. So I'll show you around Kalos. You'll get to see how we live over there, and then you'll know how to make your story!"

"And what _is_ Kalos like?" Shen asked. "I've never been there before."

"It's great! There's flowers, trees, fresh air, and the beaches are quiet and clear. And, of course, there's clothing stores _everywhere._ We're really going to have to get you a new outfit when we get there, too, so thanks for reminding me about that!"

That was something unexpected. "But I already have a change of clothes."

"Yeah, but it's a lot cooler over there than it is over here. I mean, I'm positively sweltering right now. If I hadn't packed my sundress, I'd probably have melted! I have to tell you, it's just _incredible_ that I found this hat in a store over in Lumiose City…"

-/-

"…And when I finally paid for the coat rack, the cashier said that he'd never had to think of a fire sale quite like that before!"

Daisy's story, told between mouthfuls of noodles, wrapped itself up at just about the time Shen finished her sandwich. It had been somewhat interesting, actually, to see just how much trouble one girl could find herself in within the relatively close quarters of a dress shop, especially when that girl had wandered in during one of those rare moments when said dress shop was being robbed by a pair of tourists that had decided to try something a little more exotic while on their vacation. Granted, jail cells and deportation trials were also somewhat exotic when one looked at them from the correct angle, so it could be safely assumed that regardless of their intentions, the people that were eventually detained and carted off by local police were able to spice up their trip… just not in the way that they might have hoped.

With their food eaten and the story done, the two girls gave up their seats to the Trainers that had swarmed the food court for the nightly rush, jockeying for precious space and the chance to eat dinner in peace. The booth was almost instantly claimed by a youngster, who wasted no time in tearing into his own bowl of noodle soup as if it were the very last meal he'd ever eat. It was almost endearing, but there was now a small issue to be addressed. Mid-afternoon had transitioned to early evening during their meal (and subsequent story), and the window to make a comfortable journey to Slateport had all but closed for the day. But when Shen brought the subject up, Daisy waved a hand, dismissing it.

"Oh, that's no problem. I was actually planning to stay in Mauville tonight; I only just got here earlier today, after all. I made reservations at this _adorable_ little hotel on the edge of town. And seeing as how we're going to be partners, I made a reservation for you, too! Don't worry about the cost, because it counts as a company expense."

This was news to Shen. She hadn't expected there to _be_ such things as 'company expenses', much less ones that would be for such things as a place to sleep at night. "But don't I have to be employed for longer before I earn something like that?"

"Nope! You're part of the family now. And family members get perks as long as they do good work in the field. So you'll be just fine!"

Daisy said this last part so matter-of-factly that the photographer could not help but grin. It was too much to handle: the complete surety of this girl that things would be just _so_ was just about the very next thing to folly, but the enthusiasm of such a belief was held so tightly that it seemed like when things _did_ go her way, it was _because_ of that belief.

Had the truth to be told, Shen hadn't felt too good about having a companion on her trip. She might very well have held that person back due to her inexperience with the company. On the other side of that coin, the person that she had been saddled with could have been far more of a detriment to her ability than anything else, a person who had to be dealt with as an obstacle, not a co-worker. Daisy, however, entertained neither possibility, and in that moment, Shen decided that she liked the technicolored reporter. Even if the fruits of her fashion sense were somewhat painful to look at.

"Well, I guess you can't choose your family, can you?"

"That's the spirit!"

-/-

The hotel that Daisy had chosen for their night's stay was one of the quainter facilities, something designed with the patronage of something other than tourists in mind. When asked, the concierge on call informed the two girls that the building was actually historic, and due to its status, it had been one of the few places in Mauville that had survived the city-wide transformation into the shopping mall that most people were now used to frequenting. But due to its location, a spot on the far outskirts of town, it wasn't the first thing that visiting Trainers saw. So one could be forgiven for the apparent joy with which the photographer and reporter were welcomed with, and the pair were soon given the keys to two of the best rooms in the building.

While Daisy took the time to tour the hotel, though, Shen took the opportunity to unpack, ridding herself of her backpack and letting her shoulders relax for the first time since that morning.

It had been a rather… eventful sort of day, really, as far as getting letters, running through forests, and lying to paramedics was concerned. But she'd somehow made it past her very first day as a fully employed photographer, and that in itself was quite the achievement. In the next few days, she knew, she'd be heading to another region, testing the waters that were far away from home, and that would be another sort of achievement. When she got there, she'd have to call her mother and tell her that she'd gotten to where she was going, but the excitement that she felt would only be echoed by her parent. Maybe she'd even send a postcard back, but she'd probably have to ask Daisy where to find one of those over in Kalos.

That being said, though, there was now time to indulge in some well-deserved sleep. There would be more excitement to come, after all, and she'd need to be well-rested in order to properly meet it, but one thing was certain: no matter what happened, she'd be doing what she loved.

And with that happy thought to comfort her, she took her rest.

-/-

Early that morning, however, around 3:00 A.M., Mauville City welcomed a new traveler into its neon embrace. The welcome that _this_ person received was far less than one might have expected, due to the simple fact that no one actually sawthem enter the area. But that was all right, for even if someone _had_ , there wouldn't have been all that much to see.

Only a white flash.


	7. vii

The next morning, after showers, breakfast, and a chat, the two girls left the hotel and set out for their next destination: Slateport City. The transit between the two areas was remarkably short, thanks in no small part to the man-made highway that rose just south of Mauville: the Cycling Road. Designed for those with two-wheeled transportation devices, this path stretched high above the ground, shadowing the strip of land that offered itself as a travel alternative for those with purely pedestrian intentions. But the pair that walked up to the fork that separated these two roads was on something of a mission, and so Daisy waved her new partner into the gatehouse that stood beside the highway.

"Hey, come on! Let's get some bikes!"

The gatehouses on either end of Cycling Road, Shen quickly found out, had changed a few of their rules over the years and decided to allow some of its bicycles to be rented out to passing tourists and Trainers. The vehicles could only be used to ride on the highway, and were collected by the gatekeeper on the opposite side of the road once the user was through with it, but the convenience of a shortcut to a nearby city was well worth any strings that could have possibly come alongside the deal. And soon enough, the girls, properly provisioned with transportation, set off on the highway to a new area.

The sky that day was a lovely shade of blue, with a breeze that carried the faintest hint of the dew that even then evaporated into the morning air, and as they proceeded at a leisurely pace, Shen's companion remarked on the scenery that they were passing.

"This place is just _darling,_ do you know that? The trees, the mountains, the ocean out there… it's nothing like home. It's just so _rugged_ out here."

Shen had to agree with that; in her profession, she'd had to traverse quite a bit of terrain in order to get the perfect shot. "What, is Kalos more flat and green? I've seen some pictures, but…"

"Not really. We have mountains, too, but it's kind of… tame, I suppose. This place is more rugged. More _wild._ It's a great place to explore!"

"Well, if we get a chance, then, I'll show you around. Hoenn's fun to hike through… but you'll probably need to change outfits for that."

Daisy, hearing those words, immediately looked down at her sundress, and because she wasn't looking where she was going, she very nearly crashed her bike into another cyclist's side. A sudden swerve by the boy that she sped towards avoided an accident, but as he recovered, he leapt off his bicycle and turned towards the reporter, anger firmly stamped upon his expression. "Hey! What the heck do you think you're doing? You're going to hurt somebody like that!"

Her attention returned to the world at large, Daisy circled back, coming to a halt in front of him. "Oh! I'm sorry about that. I got distracted. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, but you're about to be beaten down!" The boy's hand whipped around his back and tore free something he'd clipped onto his belt. The clip itself flew away as he did this, propelled by the sheer amount of strain that he'd placed on it with his action. But this did not stop him from holding the item he'd obtained out in front of him: a Poké Ball. "Get out your Pokémon!"

Slightly off to one side, having parked her own bicycle in a spot free from the dangers of traffic, Shen glanced over at her companion. Was Daisy a Trainer as well as a reporter? She honestly hadn't thought to ask the question. But her employer – _their_ employer –did have a provision for those people that brought some of their best friends along with them to work, and so it wasn't entirely implausible…

…but any questions that she had were answered as Daisy reached into her handbag, bringing out an orb of her own. This one, however, was incredibly pink, with a heart emblazoned upon it: a Love Ball, not a Poké Ball. "Well, if you _really_ want me to."

Shen had her camera out almost before the two capsules were tossed into the air, popping open to release twin streaks of light onto the highway that had suddenly become a battleground. The proper lens was attached and a good angle found in the next moment, and the viewfinder was at her eye just as the light that blazed in the morning air coalesced into two very different shapes. On the boy's side, an Electrike stood, barking its challenge towards the opponent placed before it, and almost without thought, Shen snapped its portrait, using the sparks that came from the Electric-Type's coat to deepen its shadows. But on the other side of things…

 _Oh, wow._

In front of Daisy, bouncing on dainty feet, was a Lopunny. It wore a smile on its face, and as the Love Ball's light faded entirely from view, it stretched, yawning almost cutely as it did so. The reporter smiled, and stepped forward, affectionately rubbing the top of its head. "Hiya, Lily! I kept you in there too long again, didn't I?"

The Lopunny cooed as her Trainer's fingers scratched the hollows behind her ears, and Daisy's smile grew. "I'm sorry about that. But I'll keep you out more now, I promise! We just have to win a little battle first."

Lily nodded, turned towards its opponent, and placed one foot firmly in front of the other, shifting its center of gravity. Daisy, seeing this, giggled, and directed her attention towards the boy standing in front of them. "Are you ready over there?"

The boy wasted no time, no breath with needless words. "Electrike, use Tackle!"

In the space of a second, the little Pokémon accelerated to an almost blinding speed, leaving behind a discernible blur as it rocketed towards its opponent. But the dash was stopped cold as the Lopunny lifted a fluffy, oversized ear and slammed it into the Electric-Type's face, transitioning the creature from a forward lunge into a backward fling. The Electrike landed in a heap, but after a moment and some egging on from its Trainer, it stood once more, hauling itself to suddenly shaky legs.

"Electrike, use Thundershock!"

As sparks of yellow energy began crawling up the little Pokémon's coat, Shen worked the camera's shutter, capturing the moments that she knew would be of use to her once the fight was over. However, despite the glee that touched her heart as she ducked and weaved, moving in whatever direction might get her the next shot, something was almost frighteningly apparent: this was a _very_ one-sided battle. For all the energy that a battle between Trainers ignited, Daisy was simply standing, not even bothering to give an order to Lily as the Lopunny dodged the beam of electricity and continued the flowing movement to deliver another kick right to its opponent's nose. Her carefree grin was even threatening to stretch her mouth wide open, and as the photographer looked from her companion's expression to that of the boy's, she frowned, for something wasn't quite right with the situation she'd become a spectator for.

Daisy, in a show of something that she couldn't quite understand, seemed to be playing with her opponent. Her body language was nothing like that of a bully, who might take pleasure in torturing a victim with the knowledge of their own weakness, but her actions were a sharp contrast to that, and this confused Shen, who'd pegged the reporter as something very different than a schoolyard thug.

 _Just what is she up to?_

At this point, the boy had ordered his Pokémon to launch two more attacks, but both of these – another Thundershock and a low-aimed Bite – were neatly dodged, then painfully countered. And after running through two Potion bottles and several medicinal Berries in trying to repair the damage that the Lopunny was inflicting on his Electrike, the boy was close to tears. It wasn't terribly overt: a tightening of the cheeks, a furrowing of the brow, and eyes that looked just a bit too moist to be simply healthy. But the signs were there, and as his Pokémon hit the ground once more, his emotions finally took over.

"You… you big _meanie!_ What did I do to you?"

And Daisy, incredibly, started to laugh, a bell-peal of mirth that bubbled out like water on parched land. "Well, didn't you want a battle? We're supposed to have fun during battles!"

"But… but I…"

The boy, Shen saw, had all but broken down now. He'd called his Pokémon back to its orb as Daisy had laughed, but the twist of his lips and the set of his shoulders, now shaking with unuttered emotion, said it all. He'd been decimated on the field of battle, and the shock and sorrow of it was too much for him to bear. The sight was almost too humiliating to witness; it was then, though, that Daisy spoke, walking towards her opponent as she did so.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about almost crashing into you like that. Honest, I am. I just got _so_ wrapped up in what my friend was saying that I didn't notice you were there. But you're not hurt, and I'm not hurt, so everything's okay, right?"

"R-right," the boy said, sniffling. "But my Pokémon… it couldn't win."

"Don't worry about it," she said. She'd come to a stop right in front of him, and she nodded, her grin as gleaming as it had been at the start of the day. "It did a great job out there, and I just know that you two will do some really great things one day!"

The weight of Daisy's enthusiasm could not be resisted forever, and as Shen watched, the boy's expression began to brighten, then shine, until the two of them were laughing. Shaking her head, Shen raised her camera one more time and snapped a photo of the pair: a young boy with hope restored, and a girl that had made a new friend.

 _She's really something._

When the boy had left, Shen turned to her companion, who was happily scratching her Lopunny's ears. "So, this is your Pokémon?"

"Lily's my friend," Daisy replied. "Isn't she great?"

Lily certainly _was;_ the Normal-Type was just as cute as Shen had read, with long, fluffy ears that could bend steel plates if the creature that they were attached to was inclined to do such a thing. But from the way it was fawning over its Trainer, the photographer doubted that it would do such a thing without being asked to. So with that particular worry quelled, she walked over to it and extended her hand. "Hi, there. I'm Shen. Nice to meet you."

Lily turned, smiled, and took the proffered hand in both of its own, bouncing up and down excitedly; for a moment, the sheer exuberance of the Pokémon's action was reminiscent of its Trainer. But this was hardly unexpected for something that followed Daisy around, and so Shen smiled, turned, and remounted her bicycle, placing one foot on the uppermost pedal.

"So, are we ready to go?"

-/-

The sun had just about reached the highest point in the sky when the party of two arrived in Slateport City. This new area was a town situated on the southern coast of Hoenn, founded due to interregional trade routes that the land had, in its fledgling days, found itself in dire need of. The land that the city had been built upon, however, had had one issue in the eyes of those colonizing it: there had been no strip of earth long enough to build a proper port on. But that was but a trifling thing to the efforts of both man and Pokémon, and with enough muscle and a host of rocks taken from the sea floor, a dock was built, then later added on to in order to create the sprawling harbor that was one of the region's most popular tourist attractions. The sight of a city utterly devoted to the sea often stunned people the first time they visited, which had quite obviously happened to Daisy, if the faint blubbering in Shen's left ear was any indication.

"So, what do you think?" she said, the barest hint of a smile touching her lips. "Pretty cool, isn't it?"

"Yeah…"

The photographer knew what she was seeing: marble foundations, cobblestone walkways, and statues of seafaring Pokémon that local artisans had sculpted for sailors to leave a trinket at before setting off on a long voyage. The addition of the latter of these was sometimes questioned by visitors on their first trip into the city, but there were plenty of old salts in the town who would tell said visitors that the act was done out of a wish for a safe trip, and no one could possibly mind a bit of perceived eccentricity if, at the end of the day, it helped a man get home to his family.

"There's a whole lot of stories here, you know," she said. "I came here once, when I was small."

"Did it look like this?"

"Not that I can remember. It's a lot… shinier." All the marble certainly helped with that, but any memories of bygone days were soon swept away by the sight of the place they needed to go: a very large building with a very red roof, sitting quite firmly on one end of the peninsula. "Oh, look, there's the port."

"What, really? Let's go!"

And once more, Daisy's hand descended upon the photographer's arm, dragging her off towards the specified area. As she was pulled, though, Shen could not help but notice that the place she'd taken note of was home to a very, _very_ large ship. It was a small ocean liner, in fact, which made her eyes widen as she noted the legend painted in lime-green paint along the bow.

 _S.S. Cacti._

She honestly hadn't expected the ship that they would be boarding to be quite that large. She'd expected a passenger ship, at best, something resembling a tugboat with only the least of amenities available for its travelers. This… this was very nearly like a luxury liner, and deep in her heart, some flicker of glee began to shine.

 _Oh, I think I like this job._

The captain of the vessel was taking tickets as they walked into the port office, and as it turned out, he was a rather jolly sort, possessing the kind of jovial, rollicking laughter that one might expect from a man that had had a long relationship with the sea. In short order, the girls had boarded the waiting ship and found their respective cabins, and Shen, for her part, was happy to make use of her room as a storage spot for her backpack. In the space of a few moments, she had reduced her personal burden to little more than her camera bag, which was exactly the way she preferred it; with any kinks left over from lugging her pack's weight over the course of the morning removed with a bit of stretching, she stepped outside and down the gangplank to where Daisy was, oddly, already waiting for her.

"Hey!" Shen called, approaching her. "What are you doing outside? Didn't you get to see your room?"

"Yeah, but I can't just stay in there all day, can I?" Daisy said, smiling. "There's _opportunity_ out here!"

And there was. After all, if one wished to learn about the ocean, one could never go wrong with staking out some of the local melting pots, where sailors chose to spend a day with a little gossip and quite a bit of bragging. The Oceanic Museum was quite possibly the most popular of these, and Shen took the opportunity to repay a previous favor to Daisy by taking _her_ by the arm and practically dragging her across the city towards it.

The Oceanic Museum was a wondrous source of information for people interested in stories, for it was there that they were able to ask most of the questions concerning the town, its citizens, and the history behind a place that had for so long been the center of seaworthy science in the world. Such a place was more than a simple resource for interested tourists: expanded in the years that followed the tyranny of certain criminal organizations, the museum now boasted an outdoor café, a gift shop, and even a small library for those who wanted to do more than look at exhibits. Because of this, the building had become the town's main hangout, and it was here that many of the more experienced sailors came to start their afternoons with the generous application of coffee and sandwiches, which were always available regardless of what time of day they were called for.

Daisy quickly found that buying a sailor his coffee usually got her a story in return, some fantastical tale about the sea and the things that dwelled in the deepest depths, and she was soon lost in jotting down the highlights of each new testimony in a notebook that she pulled from her bag as they were spun for her. Stories of ravenous packs of Sharpedo, their teeth perfect for shredding through hulls, began to fill her pages, as did the whispered legends of Dragalge and Kingdra, both feared throughout the seas for their ship-consuming tendencies. Still more stories painted pictures of chests of gold hidden beneath the waves, buried or lost by pirate gangs of times long past, or of regions far across the world, where only the bravest Trainers dared to tread.

As the reporter scribbled away, enraptured with the world of salt and waves that she'd found herself in, Shen sat down with a cup of tea and a sandwich of her own, smiling.

 _She'll probably need another notebook for all those stories…_

And in that moment of pure contentment, as she lifted the cup to her lips, something flickered in the corner of her eye.

Something white.

The photographer's seat was empty in the next second, a forgotten cup of tea still spinning on its saucer.


	8. viii

There was quite a bit to be said about Shen's almost manic fervor for taking a picture, but very little of that occurred to her when the urge had taken hold. In fact, very little of _anything_ was occurring to her at that moment in time. The fact, for instance, that what she had seen could well have been sparked from the depths of imagination was one of these; another, the fact that there wasn't actually a rational reason for a Pokémon – the single, solitary creature that she had failed to photograph, even – to walk the entire length of road from Lavaridge Town to Slateport City _faster than she had._ She'd even taken transportation for the majority of that trip, and in the face of _that_ particular tidbit, the possibility that she'd actually stumbled across the Psychic that had gotten away was rather small indeed.

But Shen, had she been in a mind to be perfectly honest with herself, was far from caring about such trivial things as facts. The Gardevoir she'd missed had found its way into her sight once more. And she was dead-set on taking its picture.

 _Have to get it, have to get it, have to get it…_

Obstacles and detours were nothing to her. She'd locked onto her target, and like the machine she'd become with that first glimpse of white, she blazed a convoluted trail through the city, following the faint flickers of fabric that appeared along the way. And for a time, she was perfectly content to continue this way. But as what should have been a simple chase began to drag on, the hints that led her on began to lessen, then cease entirely, reducing the pursuer's pell-mell run to little more than a walk.

In Shen's frenzied state, she didn't think much of the change, for her objective had not changed with the difference in circumstances. But had she been able to wonder about the lack of bread crumbs to lead her along, she might have felt very worried, for without them, finding the creature seemed to be a futile prospect. Indeed, she might very well have walked around the city all afternoon if fate had not decided to plant its flag firmly in her corner.

"So, what's this about a Gardevoir?"

Shen stopped dead as those words rang out into the afternoon air, sprung from lips other than her own. The surprise of hearing them was just enough to bring her back down to earth, and with the sudden coolness of clarity filling her mind, she turned, searching for the source of what had dragged her from her hunt. She found that source in a nearby café, one which the proprietor had seen fit to set some tables outside of. At this time of day, those tables were filled with patrons, who seemed quite content to eat, drink, or simply while the time away with conversation while passersby… well, passed by, with a wave or a smile thrown one way or the other in the bargain. It seemed a nice enough establishment to Shen's eyes, but what ultimately drew her attention was the man and woman who were standing outside one of the building's windows, chatting.

Such an activity as talking to another person could be seen as perfectly natural, but these two individuals had chosen to wear something very interesting that day: matching maroon T-shirts, the sleeves of which bore the letters 'Ttlr' in blocky white font. An even closer look revealed that the man was carrying two bags: one, a large duffel bag; the other, a smaller satchel in the unmistakable shape of a camera bag. The woman, on the other hand, was only carrying a notepad, which she was flipping through while speaking.

And as Shen stared, the two continued to talk.

"I'm not exactly sure," the woman was saying, "but it's something that the boss wanted us to look into. Apparently, it's some kind of urban legend in these parts. Breaks peoples' cameras, beats up Trainers, that sort of thing."

"You really believe that?"

"Honestly? I can believe the 'beating up Trainers' thing. But the camera thing? Nah. That's the boss being all mystic so we won't think he's crazy." She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Long as I get paid, I'll go on a wild Swanna chase now and again. Maybe we'll spin it off as some rich idiot having been mind-controlled by this thing and forced to wear costumes, or give to charity, or something like that."

"Oh, I know. What about if…"

As their chat continued, Shen felt a pang of disgust, for she knew who the two were. Or, rather, who they worked for, for the cameraman and reporter – they couldn't be anything else – were representatives of the _Tattler,_ one of the Hoenn region's most popular gossip tabloids. And Shen knew the _Tattler_ quite well, in fact, for they had been one of the handful of companies that had extended her an offer for employment as one of their photographers. But given the fact that the magazine was almost exclusively geared towards the provoking and capturing of some of the most embarrassing moments in the region, she had declined their bid, citing a respectful opposition to the content of their 'exclusive scoops'. And, in the beginning, she had thought that the letter she had sent to refuse them would end her relationship with the tabloid.

She'd been wrong. Upon receiving her letter, representatives of the _Tattler_ had endeavored to dig into every part of her life in search of something, _anything_ that they could utilize to effectively blackmail her into working for them. Any dirt on the person that had shunned them could, with enough inflation from writers, have served as the threat that would gain her services… but thanks to a very strict mother and a habit of keeping her head down, Shen didn't actually _have_ any dirt for someone to dig up. So, after about three months of hiding from the 'undercover' reporters that had made it their solemn duty to skulk around her house for any sign of the photographer, the _Tattler_ gave up its chase and accepted her refusal. But the scars had remained, and as she continued to watch the two in front of the café, something very dark began to flicker within her soul.

She'd been the one to set her sights on that Pokémon. _She'd_ been the one to try to take its picture, not they; even though she'd failed, it was her duty to chase that dream until she'd grasped it. And this two-bit gossip team thought that it could take that opportunity away from her with their bumbling attempts at stalking _her_ prize?

There was no way in hell that she'd let that happen.

As that thought ran its course, though, the pair she'd been staring at decided to leave, making their way purposefully down the street.

And without a second thought, she followed them.

-/-

The gossip team, as it turned out, had been told to make their way to a storage yard on the far west side of the city, where cargo dropped off by seaborne freighters was transported to after being received. Away from the hustle and bustle of the docks, clerks could take their time performing inventory on the freshly arrived goods without worrying about getting in the way of other workers, but the little party that arrived at the chain-link fence surrounding the yard were quite obviously _not_ dock workers. This fact became readily apparent when the cameraman reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a pair of bolt cutters, applying them to the fence as his partner kept watch.

"Hurry _up,_ would you?" the woman hissed as he worked, and the minutes went by. "Somebody could find us here."

"Patience," he replied, snipping a link, "is a virtue. And I can't seal this thing back up when we leave if I don't cut it clean. Just tell me if you hear anything, all right?"

Shen, in turn, had made _her_ way to a small thicket near them. The going had not been simple for her, for she was not particularly skilled in the finer arts of stalking: she'd knocked over a trash can once, bumped into passersby twice, and tripped over uneven cobblestones at least six different times, nearly tipping over a fruitseller's stall in one memorable incident of unbalance. But the two she'd pursued had been far too interested in theorizing just how they would spin their story, and so the racket she'd made while following them to an area near the city's bordering forest had gone unnoticed.

Now, though, she was within a stone's throw of them, and she made sure to keep very still as the woman began to scan her surroundings. The gesture was almost meaningless, for Shen's hiding spot was covered with enough foliage to hide something twice her size, but there was little harm in a little bit of overkill where stealth was concerned, for she quite obviously did not want them to notice her.

 _Not that I'm sure what would happen if they_ were _to see me,_ she thought, peeping out from behind a leafy branch, _but it's better that I not find out._

Several more minutes passed before the man finished his work, but after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, he made one last cut, sighed, and returned his bolt cutters to their bag. "There. Finished. You happy now?"

"Ecstatic," his partner replied, moving to the newly-created gap in the fence. "Let's go get that scoop."

And they slinked into the yard. Shen, however, hesitated to follow them, for it was one thing to go into a potentially dangerous forest in pursuit of a shot. It was another thing entirely to trespass upon _private property_ for that shot, for there was a very real possibility that should her presence be detected beyond that fence, she'd be arrested, and a criminal record was most assuredly not something that she would want to add to her portfolio. Her previous determination faltered in that moment, and some final voice of reason reflected that maybe, just maybe, she was being a bit too obsessive over a simple picture.

 _Nah._

And she, too, slipped through the fence.

-/-

The yard itself was a strange place, for even though it was bright enough on the outside, passing into the sea of crates that had been stored there to await clerks was akin to entering another world. The concrete that covered the ground in that area was cracked and marked with holes in places, perhaps the result of having so many tons of metal dropped on it over an extended period of time. The team that walked through that place did so nonchalantly; Shen, on the other hand, was forced to walk carefully, picking her way around obstacles to her feet in order to make as little noise as possible. Because of this necessity, the people she followed trailed further away, but since the crates themselves were placed at reasonable distances from each other, she never quite lost them.

At first, the gossip team seemed rather subdued, preferring to be quiet in a place that might very well have had a security officer of the area lurking behind any corner. But as they progressed, and time dragged on, their tension-sharpened senses dulled, and they began to chat. Most of their conversation was not what Shen particularly wanted to hear: stories of past assignments, twisting words and stories to suit other needs. But when they stopped to rest, and the photographer following them ducked behind the edge of a crate to hide, they turned to another topic.

"So," the man said, sitting down on the bare ground, "what are we going to do after we get this done? Do we actually get a break for once?"

"Nah," came the reporter's reply. "The boss said something about a ship with some old geezer on it. We'll probably have to go there and make him into some corrupt politician for the weekend article. But it's whatev… wait. Do you see that?"

At these words, Shen froze, but it seemed that the attention of the party she was stalking wasn't turned towards her. Instead, the woman was focused on something just beyond the empty area that they'd walked into, something that quickly sent her hand to her cameraman's shoulder. "Hey, look."

"What?" he said. "What's wrong… whoa."

Very, very slowly, Shen peered out from behind the crate, just enough to let her fully see the scene before her. And as she did, she felt her breath hitch in her throat, for there, sitting on top of one of the twelve-foot-high shipping crates, was the Gardevoir.

 _I wasn't crazy,_ she thought, a flicker of something very much like glee entering her heart. _It really_ did _come all this way!_

The creature that Shen had chased hadn't changed from the last time she'd seen it. But something _was_ different: somewhere, it had found an apple, and despite the fact that two very flabbergasted humans were standing directly in front of it, the Psychic seemed very content to eat, biting into the fruit with a soft _snap._

"Well, what do you know?" the cameraman said, very quietly, once the initial shock had worn off. "The boss wasn't lying after all. But it's a weird-looking one. What do you suppose happened to its horn?"

"Who cares?" his partner snapped. "Just take a picture before it figures out why we're here, and let's get out."

"I'm trying, I'm trying. Hold on a second." The photographer was fumbling with his equipment, struggling to take his camera out of its bag and into position for a shot while standing up. Finally, though, he raised the device, peering through the viewfinder at his target. "Okay. You just stay still, now. This won't hurt a… what?" The man drew away from his camera, frowning. "The heck is going on? Everything's white."

And then he looked up.

The Pokémon was standing directly in front of him, the white of the fabric on its chest nearly touching the lens of his camera. Shen, seeing this, goggled, for there had been no sign of the violet aura that she'd normally associated with the use of psychic energies. None of the static prickling that occurred whenever a Psychic-Type exercised its will over the world. The Gardevoir had simply _appeared_ in a different spot,and in the next moment, its fist came down and turned the photographer's camera into a glittering shower of plastic and glass, scattering the man's hopes of a picture to the wind.

It took nearly three seconds for surprise to register on the cameraman's face, but as the shock of having something so violent happen to his equipment took hold, he flinched, then cringed, and finally turned, breaking out into a full-blown run as he sped back the way that he and his partner had come. On the way, he passed the place where Shen was hiding, but if he noticed the girl's presence in the moment that he was able to see her, he showed no sign.

His partner, still some way away from the spot where the man's camera had met its end, stared after him, clearly confused with the series of events that had just played out. "Hey, wait! Don't leave me-"

The sentence died in her throat as she turned and met the Psychic's gaze, originating from eyes not five inches from her own.

"…here?"

In another heartbeat, the reporter was trying to match her partner's mad dash back through the maze, and Shen was alone with the Pokémon she'd sought. Its head was turned away from her: it hadn't seen her yet, an odd sort of miracle. So, capitalizing on that fact, she stood, slowly moving out from behind her crate and towards her unsuspecting target… and fell flat on her face, sending a _thump_ reverberating off of the metal containers around her.

Muscles aching, the girl looked back to see that she'd unknowingly put her foot in a hole in the concrete, tripping as a result. The sound that her impact had made was anything but quiet; grunting with the effort of recovering from a heavy fall, she stood, looking to where she'd last seen the Pokémon.

The Psychic hadn't moved from its position, which put it about a hundred feet from her. But it _was_ looking at her now, and though she inwardly cursed the fact that she'd managed to make a fool out of herself where stealth was concerned for the second time that day, she could not simply stand there. So, with a small smile fixed firmly in place, she raised a hand, giving the smallest of waves. "Hi. You… you remember me, right? From the forest?"

A stone statue could have been more expressive than the Pokémon that stood before her. But she had gone to a certain length to embrace the opportunity that she'd been given. "I've been wanting to see you again after the last time. You… you ruined my shot, you know? That wasn't very nice."

It didn't answer, instead staring at her with the same intensity that the gossip team had been subjected to. But where they had crumbled, and despite the fact that she was trying to do the _exact same thing_ that had gotten someone else's equipment turned into so much sparkling dust, she stood firm, for she had a mission to complete.

"So," she said, "are you going to let me take that picture now?"

For a moment, it maintained its stare, ruby eyes boring into hers. Then, like the last time they'd met, it snorted, then tilted its feet, leaning a shoulder against one of the shipping crates. After a moment to assure herself that her quarry wasn't going to move, Shen produced her camera, aimed directly at the Pokémon before her… and reached forward, removing the lens cap. A smile broke over her lips as she did this, for having been fooled once, she'd learned not to fall for the same ploy again; now, there was nothing separating her from what she'd sought.

 _No tricks this time,_ she thought, looking into the viewfinder. _Just you, me, and this picture…_

… _wait, where'd it go?_

She was alone in the corridor. She hadn't heard anything: no footsteps, no displaced air. Nothing at all, in fact. The Gardevoir had simply _vanished,_ and even though she turned around more than once in order to see if it had sneaked up behind her, her efforts were in vain, for she had lost the opportunity to take the Pokémon's picture once more.

 _Not again…_

The groan that rang out in that maze of steel was flavored with exasperation.

-/-

The girl that returned to the ship early that evening was a frustrated one, a person whose brand of melancholy was far too deep-seated for even Daisy to help with. But though she was certainly concerned about her partner, the bubbly reporter didn't press Shen for too many details about her day out on the town, simply taking the time to share a comradely drink with the depressed photographer before the hour became too late and fatigue claimed its bounty for the night.

At the _end_ of that night, the prize of rest was hard-won, for the thought of her failure to take the picture that she'd set her heart on capturing gnawed at Shen's heart. But eventually, mercifully, sleep came, dragging her down into oblivion. And the world was still, the only sounds to be heard that of the cool and quiet air of the world beyond her cabin.

And, faintly, the soft _snap_ of something biting into an apple.


	9. ix

The application of a good night's rest brought a sort of salve to Shen's melancholy, and as the rising sun dragged her awake, the photographer found herself ready to face the rigors of another day. The first of these rigors, though, was applied the moment she left the safety of her cabin, for Daisy soon pounded her way down the side deck to meet her, one hand holding a very yellow cellphone. "Shen! You'll never believe the call I just got!" 

The photographer opened her mouth to respond to this, but Daisy was already off and running with her side of the conversation. "You know Professor Poplar, right? The Pokémon savant? Well, the boss told me that he's touring the world right now, but he'll be making a secret stop in Hoenn for a few days – and he's coming into port in about a week!"

Shen blinked. That bit of information was certainly a juicy tidbit, for the person in question was one that, unlike the others of his kind, tended to keep to himself.

There were many scholars in the history and habits of Pokémon. The greatest of these, naturally, were known as professors. Due to the criteria that one had to meet in order to _become_ a professor, though, there weren't many of these individuals, and so their presence in the world resembled something akin to that of celebrities. Their movements were watched, made note of, and strained for understanding by the media and the public alike; because of this, a professor that managed to remain relatively hidden in the eyes of the world was rare. Professor Poplar was that person: a man who kept to his own devices and didn't often involve himself in the affairs of his colleagues.

But any more thought on Shen's part was soon cut off as a jingly tune issued from the device in Daisy's hand, and the journalist's smile widened. "That's Leo! He said he'd call back in a few minutes, so I'm _so_ glad that I found you before then. Here, I'll put it on speaker mode." Her finger flicked the cellphone's screen, then tapped it, and the voice of Shen's employer rang out into the morning air.

"Daisy? Are you there?"

"I'm here, Leo!" the journalist replied, smiling. "I have Shen with me, too."

"Ah, good. Good morning, Shen."

Despite herself and the fact that the man wouldn't be able to notice the gesture, Shen nodded towards the phone. "Good morning, Mr. Blomford. Is there something you wanted me to do?"

"It's 'Leo', Shen," the editor said, a touch of humor in his voice. "But yes, there is indeed something that I want the both of you to do for me. You see, we've received a tip that one of the tourist ships in Orre took on a high-profile passenger last night. Naturally, we tend to disregard a lot of 'big scoop' tips due to their unreliability, but the passenger was important enough that we had to check the credibility of that comment. And, amazingly, the person who sent it was telling the truth.

"Since I'm sure that Daisy's filled you in on exactly _who_ our target is, I'll just say that at this very moment, Professor Poplar is on the _S.S. Sunbeam,_ which left port early this morning on its way to Sinnoh. However, it has to make a two-day stop in Lilycove City in order to resupply its stores, and so we want the both of you to make your way to the docks there in order to get an interview with him when the ship arrives. Unfortunately, this is going to modify the plan we'd had concerning your scheduled trip to Kalos, but this potential interview is an opportunity that we simply cannot pass up. So I'll need the two of you to come back here as soon as possible to drop off your ticket stubs from the _S.S. Cacti,_ then make your way over to Lilycove on foot."

While she listened, something rattled loose in the photographer's head, and she cleared her throat, trepidation entering her tone. "Um, sir, there's probably something you should know about this project. We _might_ have a little competition on that front."

"Oh? How so?"

"I ran into some reporters from the _Tattler_ here in town yesterday.They were trying to hunt down a tip from their boss, but that didn't work too well."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Well, I followed them to one of the shipping yards, and… they got their cameras broken."

Silence reigned as she said this, but a bark of laughter from another person on Leoric's side of the line broke through any questions the editor could have asked. Evidently, his floor supervisor was with him that morning.

"Oh, ho, ho!" came Joe's voice, ever-so-slightly fainter than his colleague's. "They ran into the White Flash, didn't they? Serves them right!"

"Yes. But they also talked about a 'geezer on a ship', so I'm fairly sure that it's safe to assume that they know about Professor Poplar's arrival, too."

A sigh from Leoric hissed through the phone's tiny speakers at that. "Well, I can't say that I'm surprised. Regardless of competition, though, you'll need to outwit them and get the interview before they stretch the truth six ways from Sunday in order to sell their rag. After all, wedon't deal in fake news. We deal in _news._ And I'm counting on you – _both_ of you – to uphold that."

Shen caught Daisy's eye, and the journalist grinned at her. There was a trace of wolfishness in that grin, but one could not criticize her for having it. Shen, too, had felt the call of a challenge, and in that moment, both photographer and journalist set themselves against it.

"Yes, sir," came the reply, from two sets of lips. "We will."

-/-

The trip back to Mauville City was a little different than the journey they'd made over to Slateport, for the Cycling Road had been temporarily shut down to allow a service crew to maintenance a portion of its prodigious length. As such, the pair were forced to take the path beneath the highway in order to return, but though the walk was long, there was plenty of scenery to distract them. The world below the ribbon of steel and concrete above was more in tune with nature: tall grass, soft soil, and the lapping waters of a stream that lazily made its way to the ocean, flowing around and under a dirt walkway that stretched across the waters to link two cities together. As they traveled, Shen was pressed into a sort of tour guide for Daisy, pointing out some of the fruit trees had been planted on that walkway in the years since the Cycling Road had been completed.

Daisy, for her part, had her head on a swivel joint, for every single tree and bush held a kind of fascination for her. Each twig had to be stopped for, inspected, and talked about before the journalist moved on, and although Shen soon grew a little weary of having to constantly revisit the same few topics, her companion's passion to discover the place she'd traveled to was a bit too intense for her to make the trip from fatigue to something far less suited for a budding friendship. Still, when she grew a little _too_ tired, all she had to do in order to restore a bit of her patience was cast a look backwards, for Daisy had made good on an earlier promise of hers and released her Lopunny from its Love Ball in order to have a bit of freedom.

Lily, like her Trainer, was curious about her surroundings, but seemed to show it slightly differently: where Daisy looked at a twig or pointed at a rock, the Pokémon more often than not hung back, simply content to gaze at nature. This, Shen guessed, was only natural, for a Pokémon would most likely have a sort of instinctual knowledge of the world's wilds, and having such things described to it, even if the creature could understand the explanation, would be somewhat useless.

The thought of a Pokémon, though, turned her thoughts to the adventures of the previous day, and as she continued to walk, she wondered about the encounter she'd had in the shipping yard. Her supervisor had told her about the Gardevoir's penchant for destroying photography equipment. He'd been right about such tendencies, for she'd actually gotten to witness the Psychic's fury in its altercation with the _Tattler_ group.

 _And that was an expensive camera it broke,_ she thought, replaying the scene in her mind. She'd recognized the device that the man had held that day: a Silph UltraSnap 230. There weren't many of them in her region due to the fact that they had to be imported from another continent, and because of shipping costs and all the bells and whistles that came with a Silph Co. invention, the price of such a thing was almost impossibly high. She could have probably put a down payment on a small cabin for the price of the camera's cost… and the Gardevoir had simply _obliterated_ it, turning it into so much dust in the wind. The girl suppressed a shudder at that, for if _her_ camera had been given the same treatment, she'd have lost a piece of her soul along with the precious device.

But that rationale sparked one more question: why the Psychic _hadn't_ destroyed her camera. She'd met it twice now, but despite the fact that she'd been within a stone's throw of the Pokémon on both occasions, it had refrained from actually touching her or the treasure that she'd tried to take its picture with. Yet it hadattacked another person who had attempted to do the same thing.

 _Why? Am I special or something?_

But such thoughts didn't truly matter, for she'd finally left it behind in Slateport City. She would most likely never see the Psychic again, and though the thought of not having its image recorded on film was galling, she would simply have to live with that truth...

"Hey, Shen! Wake up!"

Startled, Shen jumped in place, looking towards her companion. "Wh… what's wrong?"

"Nothing, really. But I've been trying to get your attention for a while now, you know," the journalist said, smiling. "There's a Pokémon on the other side of the river. Aren't you going to take its picture?"

Daisy pointed, and obligingly, Shen turned her head… and met a familiar ruby gaze.

 _No. No way._

Instantly, she froze, as much captivated by the heat of the stare being focused on her as by the fact that on the other side of the river, nearly half a city block's length away, _was the Gardevoir._

 _How in the heck is it_ here? _It was in Slateport yesterday…_

There was no reason for it to be there. None whatsoever. But there it was, and as she stared back over the water, a concept struck: could the Psychic be _following_ her? _That_ was a particularly chilling thought, for she hadn't actually done anything to deserve such treatment.

 _Why is it here? Is it taunting me now? Mocking me for trying to take its picture? I don't… I don't_ understand _this!_

"Isn't that a Gardevoir?" Daisy asked, cutting into Shen's thought process once more. "Aren't they rare? I've seen pictures of them, but…"

"Yeah," Shen replied. "But this one's been kind of common lately."

Daisy, understandably, was rather confused by that statement, but chose not to press the matter as her companion turned, continuing her way down the Cycling Path. But despite her wish to preserve her _friend's_ wishes, one question still escaped her.

"Aren't you going to take a picture of it?"

As the words rang out over the water, a grimace colored Shen's expression.

"It… doesn't like that."

The silence that those words – and Shen's sudden change in mood – imposed lasted for a time, but as the two walked on, Daisy found herself unable to keep herself from seeking answers. Eventually, she began to quiz the photographer on the Pokémon they'd seen, and even though Shen refrained from speaking in the beginning, the explanation was slowly dragged from her lips: the encounters she'd had with the Gardevoir, and her failures to take its picture. As Shen spoke, annoyance clouded her tone, but when she was finished, the journalist placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey. It's okay if you can't do something, you know? Not everybody's perfect! I mean, it took me a long time to figure out how to approach some people. But you don't have to agonize over something that's bothering you, because you'll figure out how to solve the problem at _some_ point! And you'll feel _really_ good when that happens, believe me. Right, Lily?"

The Lopunny let out a cheer, jumping into the air with a smile of its own firmly affixed to its face, and the frustration that Shen had felt upon seeing the Gardevoir again began to melt away. "Thanks, Daisy."

"No problem! But just in case you _do_ run into it again… here."

Reaching into her bag, the journalist retrieved something and tossed it to her companion, who caught it without thinking. Surprised, Shen turned to look at the item: a solitary orb, painted white, black, and yellow.

 _This is… an Ultra Ball?_ "Daisy, what…"

"It's a gift! I've been wanting to get you _something_ for our friendship, but I didn't really know what you liked. Since you seem to like that Gardevoir, though, why don't you catch it? Then you can take all the pictures you want of it! And _then_ we'll _both_ be Trainers, and Lily can have a friend to play with!" Daisy's grin was practically a sickness with the sheer speed of its spread to Shen's own lips, and soon enough, both girls were laughing. Everything was forgotten in that laughter; depression and worry seemed far away, carried off by the breeze.

And once the laughter finally died out, not even the thought of a slippery Psychic could bring such feelings back to Shen's heart.

-/-

The return to Mauville was done with little fanfare, for the girls' first destination was already set for them: the _Times's_ main office. However, as it was well into the evening by the time they arrived, the two had to be let into the darkened building by Joe, who took the stubs of their tickets and the manila envelope he'd handed them the previous day.

"So," he said, picking up a second envelope from its place on a nearby chair, "what we know about Poplar is in this packet. You'll be meeting him in Lilycove, obviously, and his ship is set to arrive there in around a week. Just be there when _it_ gets there, and we'll be good."

The new envelope went into Daisy's bag, and the journalist smiled. "Sure, Joe! We'll be there before it happens. Count on it!"

That seemed to satisfy the supervisor, and he nodded to the both of them. "All right, then. You two get some rest before you take off."

Having said his piece, he escorted them to the door, leaving the two in the city proper once more. With little in the way of leisure time, Shen and Daisy soon found their way to a hotel in order to refresh themselves for the night. Said hotel turned out to be the exact establishment that the two had visited on their previous stop in Mauville City, and they were received in much the same way that they had before. And indeed, it wasn't long before both the photographer and journalist were safely tucked away in second-floor rooms, sleep coming quickly to them.

But sleep, great pacifist though it was, could not hold Shen for long that night. Perhaps it was the remnants of the anxiety she'd felt that day, or the last flicker of the frustration she'd known before her friend had taken it from her. Regardless of cause, though, she woke up long before she had a right to, and her head automatically turned towards the bedside clock, bleary eyes regarding the time posted there.

 _2:00 A.M._

With a groan, she swung herself out of bed, moving to the nearby window with one hand firmly affixed to her forehead. She'd woken with a headache; intent on opening the glass in order to let fresh air soothe her pain, she pulled one part of the curtain that hung in front of it aside. The neon glare of the city beyond was blinding to one who had, until that moment, slumbered in blessed darkness, but once her eyes adjusted, she reached towards the latch that held the window in place. Her hand never made it to its destination, and in that moment, her headache faded, for her complete attention was suddenly dominated by a sight that lay in the world outside that portal.

 _It can't be._

There, in the deserted street, stood a white-and-green figure. Its head was craned upwards in order to scan the hotel's front-facing windows, and with a start, Shen realized that she had been absolutely right in her assumption earlier that day: the Gardevoir below _was_ following her. And as _this_ thought formed, a second realization struck her. It was nothing earth-shattering, but merely the product of frustration, coupled with the odd twinge of a simple, almost primal sensation: curiosity.

 _This thing walked from my home all the way to Slateport, and now all the way back here. There_ has _to be a reason for that._

 _And I need to find out what that reason is._

Pajamas were shed and proper clothes donned in an instant, and as she strapped on her camera bag, one hand moved towards the curtain shielding her view, throwing it wide in a burst of motion that sent the fabric crashing against the wall. Instantly, the Psychic's gaze snapped to her window, and through the glass, she stared back.

"You're not getting away," she said, very quietly. "Not this time."

And she marched out of her room, heading for the stairs to the lobby.


	10. x

The girl that strode out of the hotel in the wee hours of that morning was a quiet one. Oddly enough, seeing the Gardevoir again _hadn't_ triggered the tunnel vision for which she had more often than not succumbed to when a challenge presented itself. There had been none of the frenzy, none of the passion with which she pursued a photograph: merely determination, a kind of cold detachment from the world at large, and though she didn't question this as she made her way to the nearest lamppost, the sharpness of that emotion would have startled her had she not already turned her mind to the task at hand.

Upon reaching the lamppost, she leaned against it, drinking in the flavor of the night breeze. But her idyll did not last for long, and she soon stood straight, looking out into the dark.

"I know you're there."

The Psychic that had been staring up at her window was absent, _had_ been absent upon her entrance into the main street, and so she spoke to the air. But that did not concern the photographer, for she knew that the creature would hear her regardless.

She lifted a hand, pointing a finger to the north, away from the city and towards an area that she had traveled through by ambulance only days before. "I'm going to go that way. If you want to follow me, that's fine."

And she went. Gift shops, their doors closed and blackened with the absence of light from within, rose on both sides of her as she progressed, for she had chosen to take her walk at a time when even a city filled with neon had found some time to sleep. With the dying of the light came a removal of sound, as well, for the gadgets and gizmos that caught the eyes of tourists had fallen silent. The only noises to be heard were those of Shen's footsteps, and these echoed strangely in the deadened city as she made her way towards the city gates, indifferent of the chilling effect that these sounds might have had on another individual.

She did not look back. She didn't need to. She _did,_ however, look to the side on one occasion, when a larger store's window panes drew her attention. Within their reflections, she saw herself: disheveled, tired. She hadn't even bothered to brush her hair before leaving her room, and hazel locks draped over her shoulders like tendrils of coffee-colored smoke, tangled and gnarled by the effects of travel. But as she went on, her eyes strayed, and at the extreme edge of a window pane's gleaming surface, she spotted something trailing behind her.

Something white.

-/-

North of Mauville City was a small grade, created naturally as the territory dominated by mountains sloped into a plain. Cliffs and ridges were loosely scattered around this part of the region, covered by the soil and patchy grass that one might have seen on the sides of Mt. Ember; the volcano, it seemed, had once commanded far more in the way of land than some might have thought. But though this spot did not see many tourists despite its original road having been widened for heavier traffic, it had a visitor that night.

The area was quite naturally deserted at that time of morning, and it was here, on a grassy patch halfway up the grade, that Shen turned. She knew that having been given the chance, the Gardevoir that had been stalking her would have found its way to a space directly behind her, and so it was with very little in the way of surprise that she found herself completely correct in her assumption.

"Okay," she said to it. "There's nobody out here; we're almost half a mile from civilization. So beforeyou decide to disappear and make me pull my hair out over it, I want to know something.

"Why are you mocking me like this?"

One of the Psychic's eyebrows rose, but Shen was far from finished. "All I wanted when I first saw you was to take your picture. That guy you knocked out a couple of days ago in the forest? _He's_ the one who tried to capture you, and you put him in the hospital. I wasn't even _with_ him. He followed me all on his own, but that's not the point.

"The point," she said, pointing at the Gardevoir, "is that _you_ denied me my picture, and then followed me to Slateport afterwards. And I was happy to see it, because there was a chance that I could get the picture I'd wanted. But you took that chance from me, and even though I actually got to the point where I was _okay_ with it, you followed me all the way back _here,_ and now here you are, _taunting_ me!

"So here's the thing. Either you let me take your picture right now for giving me all of this trouble over the past couple of days, or you go away, and this time, don't come back again. I do _not_ want to deal with this kind of thing when _I am trying to work!"_

The last few words were very nearly shouted, for the frustration she'd thought she'd gotten rid of had returned: amplified by the raw, seething wounds of repeated failure, she had finally made the dread transition to anger, the heat of her emotion aimed squarely at the creature that stood before her. Not even the voice that she could have called reason would have been able to break through, and despite the fact that she was actually yelling at a Pokémon that could quite literally pull her apart like string cheese by using its brain, there wasn't a thought in her head concerning anything even remotely related to personal safety. She was simply _mad,_ and in that anger, she reached into a spare pocket of her camera bag, where she had placed the gift that Daisy had given her.

 _I_ will _have that picture. No matter what it takes – if I have to be a Trainer, then so be it!_

Her fingers brushed against the Ultra Ball, shrunken to capsule size for easy storage… and it was then, with the orb nearly in her hand, that clarity flooded in.

Being a Trainer was something that she'd never wished to do. She hadn't wanted to spend time grooming, feeding, and developing relationships with creatures that, ultimately, were used for fighting; in truth, she'd put that time towards taking care of her camera, honing her skills as a photographer when others chose to pursue a dream of becoming a Regional Champion. She'd never regretted it, either, especially when she'd finally found her place in working for a newspaper. But she had also never let a picture go untaken, which left her torn: she could secure her picture, but in order to do so without the Gardevoir running away, she would have to take her Ultra Ball and catch the creature, which would enter her into a lifestyle that she did not want to be a part of. And the impossibility of that concept – to keep a dream by sacrificing it – nearly _did_ have her pulling her hair out on the grass.

But though it was hard to do so, Shen looked into her soul. What she found, deep in that sea of emotion, was understanding.

 _No. I don't want this. I want to take pictures, not fight people._ And slowly, she stood, withdrawing her hand from her bag.

"I… damn it, _fine._ You win. I won't take your picture. And I won't try to capture you, either; I'm not a Trainer, and I _really_ don't want to be one. So just _go._ Get out of here. I'll deal with the loss."

And with that said, she stood there and waited for the inevitable turning of the Pokémon's shoulders as it made its way back into the forest. The flicker of anger was still there, focused in some last fit of selfish desire, but the resolve created from her decision prevented the emotion from taking over. As she had said, she would just have to live with the fact that regardless of her dreams, there were some things that just couldn't be had in life…

…and then the Gardevoir snickered.

 _Wait. What?_

Having the Pokémon _laugh_ at her was an reaction that Shen hadn't expected. Quite the opposite, in fact: she'd expected the creature to be offended after she'd yelled at it, and for a moment, she found herself stunned, unsure whether to feel offended herself. But the moment soon passed, and with a recomposed expression, the Psychic crossed its arms, looking at her expectantly.

It took nearly an entire second for her to understand what it was trying to say; when dawn came, her jaw dropped.

 _It actually_ wants _me to take its picture?_ "Seriously? You're not going to run away this time?"

Its eyebrow lifted again, and Shen pulled her camera from its bag, checked to make _absolutely_ sure that the lens cap was off, and peered through the viewfinder to see… that the Pokémon hadn't moved. In fact, it looked slightly annoyed, as if her incredulity was wasting its time.

 _This can't be true,_ she thought, placing her finger on the shutter trigger. _It has_ _to be some kind of trick, right?_

But the button, when she pressed it, went down without a hitch, and the _click_ that her camera made as it snapped the picture she'd been wanting so badly surprised her. She stared at the device, shocked; had it really been that simple?

Apparently, it had been, and she stored her camera away once more with something very much like disbelief directing her actions.

 _I… I got it? Really?_ "Well, um… thanks, I guess."

With her mission finally accomplished, she began the trek back to the hotel. Despite the early hour, there was a chance that if she were to get back into bed quickly enough, she'd be able to get a little more sleep before heading off to her next destination. She'd have to move quickly, though, and so she began to quicken her pace… and in the moment she changed her speed, a single footstep crunched into the rocky soil behind her. Confused, the photographer stopped, turning to face the new sound.

And there, staring at her, was the Gardevoir.

"Uh… is something wrong?" Shen asked. "I kind of need to get back to my room, so…"

It did not speak. But when she took a step back, towards the city she'd come from, one samite leg rose and fell, propelling the Psychic _forward._ And for a few steps, the two of them continued like this, until Shen, the edge taken from her surprise, halted once more.

"What's wrong with you? I already took your picture! Aren't you supposed to go away after that?"

Its head tilted, as if its motive were perfectly obvious. And Shen, applying her mind to the problem that she'd been faced with, felt realization break upon her like a lightning strike.

 _No. It can't be._

She'd heard of such things happening before. They were stories often told by the media, used in order to provide a break in the almost constant circle of unfortunate circumstances that largely made up the meat of the evening news. But even though she knew that the stories of having a Pokémon follow one home _were_ indeed true on occasion, she hadn't expected that kind of event to happen to _her._

"You… you want to… come with me?" The words were spoken as a whisper. "Is _that_ why you've been following me all this time?"

The nod it gave in reply was the barest tilt of its head. Indeed, the movement could have barely been _classified_ as a movement, but the meaning was clear.

"I already told you that I didn't want to be a Trainer, remember?" she said, flabbergasted. "I mean, I don't even have any idea about how to _act_ around a Pokémon that I'm not taking a picture of." Said Pokémon wasn't fazed by such a statement, though, and Shen felt the figurative noose tightening around her neck.

"You're not going to let me say 'no', are you?"

But she already knew the answer to that from the set of the Psychic's mouth: it was going to be stubborn about this. What _she_ wanted didn't really matter; whether she liked it or not, she was going to pick up a new partner. And in the face of that fact, there was little that she could do but set her shoulders and resign herself to her fate.

"…Fine. You can go with me. But you already know that I can't really take care of you, so if you _do_ come along, you're going to have to pull your own weight."

At that, its lips flickered, and Shen got the distinct impression that it was laughing at her again.

 _Oh, well. At least I won't have to worry about having a stalker anymore… and I guess that if I need to take another picture of it sometime, it won't be_ too _difficult._

"Well, come on, then," she said. "Let's go."

And with that, she continued down the path to the hotel, this time with the Gardevoir's footsteps falling just behind her own.

-/-

The trip back to the city was fairly uneventful, and as she walked into the hotel's lobby, the clerk's eyes flicked towards her new companion, then back to the guest register. But as it was perfectly normal for a Pokémon to follow a human around, since Trainers tended to do just that with their favorite partners, she thought little of it, leading the way back to her room and swiping the door open with her keycard. Once inside, though, she was forced to tackle a different conundrum: how to share a _sleeping space_ with a Pokémon.

Had Shen been a Trainer, she could have placed the Gardevoir in an orb and gone to sleep without further issue. But her decision to refrain from actually _capturing_ the Psychic meant that she would have to make an additional sleeping area in a room that carried only a wooden chair in the way of furniture, and as she looked about the space before her, Shen's eyes inevitably strayed towards the bed.

Her bed, for its part, was queen-sized. Two people _could_ theoretically sleep on a mattress that size if they didn't mind the cramped settings, but before she could take the thought further, the Pokémon, having apparently grown tired of waiting for her to unblock the doorway, slipped past her and promptly sought out the corner of the room furthest away from the door. However, her bed hardly went untouched, for the Psychic took one of the pillows and a sheet from it before retiring to its corner for the night. And, after a moment, Shen took her own respite, closing the door behind herself before changing into her pajamas and settling back into what remained of her bedsheets.

Reality didn't quite set in until she'd reached over and laid her fingers on the lamp switch that was set into the wall behind her bed, for leaning over so far allowed her a perfect view of a pair of green shoulders, slowly shifting in sleep. Then, and only then, did a single thought become clear, a kind of coping mechanism that served to provide relief for an issue that she might have lost her mind over otherwise.

 _It's been a very odd day._

-/-

Dawn broke shortly thereafter, and with it, Shen awoke, swung her legs out of bed, and headed for the bathroom. The lack of sleep she'd had had draped fatigue over her shoulders like a coat. The remedy – a nice, hot shower – was only several steps from her sleeping place, a fact that she enjoyed, and with that and an energy bar to sustain her, she was soon ready for a new day.

Daisy, as she had half expected, was waiting for her in the lobby. The journalist had gotten her hands on a foldable map of the region, and was poring over the document alongside her Lopunny, who seemed to be fascinated with the concept of a piece of paper that could be reduced to the size of one's hand.

"Good morning, Daisy," Shen called, getting her companion's attention. "Are you ready to go?"

Daisy's head lifted, her happy smile brightening her features. "Sure! I was just looking up the… wait. Shen, what's _that?"_

The girl half-turned, casting an eye behind herself. What Daisy had referred to as 'that', as it turned out, was the Gardevoir, who had descended the stairs to the lobby on Shen's heels. It was wearing her camping backpack upon its shoulders, a responsibility that it had taken upon itself before the two of them had left her room that morning, and though it felt a little odd to have a Pokémon holding her personal items, not having to carry an extra twenty pounds all over creation allowed her a bit more in the way of freedom.

"Oh, yeah. This is that Gardevoir that's been following me around lately. We ran into each other again last night."

"And you caught it? That's _fantastic!_ I just _knew_ that you'd be able to become a Trainer!"

"Well, not exactly. I didn't actually catch it. We sort of… came to an agreement, is all."

"Oh, really? That's okay, too. What really matters is that there's someone new to for you to introduce me to!" With energy fit to shame a cheerleader, the journalist bounced – there was no other word for it – up to the Psychic, taking its hand and emphatically pumping the limb up and down. "Hi! I'm Daisy! I just _know_ that we're going to be great friends!"

The Gardevoir's expression remained blank. But Daisy didn't really seem to be affected by that, and as the journalist shook the Pokémon's hand, Shen felt the whisper of a smile touch her cheeks.

 _If there's anyone who can trump this thing's poker face, Daisy's a prime candidate!_

"Okay," she said, after the journalist had finally released the Psychic's hand. "Let's get going."


	11. xi

The girls left Mauville City for the second time that morning, heading east. Daisy, however, had _strongly_ suggested that they take something to eat along the way once she'd found out that the trip they were taking would last the better part of a week, and so the two of them made a small stop at the local Poké Mart in order to pick up some supplies before setting off.

There were two roads to Lilycove City, but only one of them was available for pedestrian traffic: the one that made its way north through the region's wetlands and into a village built amongst the trees themselves. The other choice, once a one-way path from east to west, had been closed to protect a rare variety of flower from being plucked by passerby or eaten by said passerby's Pokémon. The loss of the road was at times inconvenient for tourists, but as the extra traffic had proved to be a boon for the local nature society's awareness programs, there were few complaints that could not be solved by the application of an informational pamphlet and some rather firm reasoning. And as neither girl wanted to have to stand through a lecture from the veritable legion of forest rangers that served as the area's makeshift security force, they quickly decided to take the hassle-free path, crossing the bridge that had been erected for ease of travel over the strip of river outside of Mauville's eastern gate and turning north.

Daisy, as it turned out, had little time for sightseeing that morning, for the journalist had decided to regale her friend with a few stories of the region that the two would soon find themselves in. Tales of the world that lay just over the ocean, shining and refined, spilled from her lips as she skipped over the uneven ground, and soon enough, Shen found herself entranced by the picture that Daisy painted of the Kalos region. But as they walked, the photographer soon found her attention divided, and in the middle of one sentence, she snuck a glance behind herself, to where a pair of Pokémon trailed behind.

Daisy's Lopunny, having been released by its Trainer to enjoy the walk, was taking in the sights, looking with open eyes and gaping mouth at the sky above, then to the water behind them, then to the trees in the distance, completely spellbound by the scenery around her. Every now and then, the creature stumbled due to keeping its eyes on the sights around it instead of the road beneath its feet… but that was all right, for it was only natural for a tourist to look around.

The Gardevoir, for its part, was maintaining a distance of about four steps behind Shen herself. Unlike the Lopunny, it was focusing on the road ahead instead of the world around it, wearing the same expressionless mask that Shen had decided composed its 'normal' face. But it wasn't doing anything strange, so the girl ultimately shrugged and returned to Daisy's latest story.

"And the Restaurant Lé Wow was just _great!_ I mean, the service was fantastic, the food was to _die for,_ and the place is decked out in the most _incredible_ set of Waldorf teak that I've ever seen in my life!"

Shen smiled: she hadn't been caught looking the other way, it seemed. "You didn't tell me what you ate, though."

"Oh?" Daisy looked a little bewildered, as if she'd expected her energy alone to transfer the smaller details of her subject along with all of the juicier material. "Oh! Oh, I had a Magikarp salad, with fresh cheese and dressing. You've _got_ to try it, Shen. I'll take you over there as soon as we get into port, okay?"

"Okay."

And they went on.

-/-

The road that the photographer and journalist walked was Route 109, a path that the citizens of the continent knew very well. It was here that an almost never-ending storm front lay, constantly bathing this strip of the world in rain, wind, and the occasional flare of lightning; though it was dry enough in their first hour of walking, Shen, like all good Hoenn natives, had packed a roll of rubberized fabric in her camping bag. The fabric, when stretched out, served multiple uses: it could be used as a tablecloth, a blanket, or even a cloak for those that wandered into sandstorms or cloudbursts. But since there was more than one traveler on the road with her, it wasn't long before the girls were standing a little closer to one another, holding the rubber sheet over their heads in order to ward off the torrent of falling water that enveloped them as soon as they left the first field behind.

Though Daisy swiftly recalled her Lopunny to its Love Ball in order to keep it from experiencing the storm, the Gardevoir behind them could not enjoy such comfort. But before it could get too wet, the Psychic moved to the side of the road and ripped an oversized leaf from one of the plants that lay scattered around the area. The piece of foliage was then taken by its still-attached stalk and held up like an umbrella, letting the rain fall harmlessly away from the Pokémon and her backpack as they progressed.

 _Well,_ Shen thought, _I suppose that's one way to stay dry._

"Is it like this all the time?" Daisy asked, huddling a little more under the fabric. "I've never seen this much rain in one place before."

 _"Almost_ all the time," Shen replied. "There's a few dry days, but the rain's a constant. That's why people bring these sheets with them if they go up this way."

"Wow, and here I nearly went this way without one! You're really prepared, Shen."

The unexpected compliment took the photographer by surprise, but she quickly shrugged it off, returning her eyes to the road. "It's nothing special, really. It's just how we live around here."

"Well, next time, I'm bringing a rain shawl with me!"

Shen smiled at that.

-/-

While they made good time through the shift in weather, the rain and the need for constant breaks in order to rest hands that grew tired from holding the rubber sheet soon proved that Route 109 was not easily conquered. In fact, the zig-zagging nature of the road itself made any travel to Fortree City a long and daunting task, often slowing those who made the trip, and so it was that despite their determination, the two girls had to end their day at a point a few miles from their first goal. But shelter did not need to be found amongst the shrubbery, for a place existed that was only too happy to bring them in for the night.

Nearly three-quarters of the way to Fortree City lay a location that was, above all things, dedicated to the study of weather patterns and developments. Many a meteorologist seen on the news had spent a few years working in what many simply called 'The Institute' due to the fact that the entire route that the building stood in was a veritable cauldron of shifting storms, thus making its true title of 'Weather Institute' a tad redundant. But it was open to the public, and as an addition in the years since it had opened, a small hostel was maintained on the site for those travelers unfortunate enough to get caught in the rain. Granted, nearly anyone that walked through Route 109 was bound to get soaked, but details like that were of small consequence where humanitarian gestures were concerned.

It didn't take long for the travelers to secure a pair of rooms for the night, but after entering said room and setting Shen's backpack next to the bed, the Gardevoir stepped towards the doorway, obviously intent on doing something on its own.

 _What's it…_

Shen, understandably, was curious as to what could fuel such an action, for the creature was still something of an enigma to her. But since she really didn't think that she would be able to stop it from doing what it wanted, she took up the sheet that she'd draped herself and Daisy with during the day and held it out, her movement drawing the Pokémon's gaze.

"Hey," she said. "If you're going to go out there, would you at least take the sheet with you? You'll get sick in that kind of storm."

The Psychic's eye flicked to the sheet, then to her, and their gazes locked… but only for a moment. Then its arm stretched out, and it took the rubber sheet from her hand, draping the length of brown fabric over itself; thus cloaked, it stepped out into the world beyond the Institute's doors and back into the downpour they'd just escaped from.

 _Well,_ she thought as it was enveloped by the rain, _I suppose that I_ did _tell it that it would have to pull its own weight. It's probably going to scavenge for food out there – there's enough Berries for it._

Despite the musing, though, she wasn't particularly worried about the Psychic running away from her. It, like all its type, was obviously intelligent, and after going to all the trouble of joining her on her trip, she couldn't quite imagine the possibility of its removing itself from her company. It was far more likely that it would return of its own accord, and knowing this, Shen took her camera and set forth to join Daisy in attempting to locate an individual to interview amongst the Institute's staff members. This was a bit difficult to accomplish given the fact that only the ground floor was open to the general public, but in the end, they staked out the building's cafeteria, reasoning that everyone, including the scientists, needed to eat at some point. This theory was confirmed when they happened across a budding meteorologist on his break, and while the man ate, Daisy asked him a few questions about his profession and his workplace, taking a tape recorder out of her bag to record the conversation.

During the interview, Shen remained quiet, for, among other reasons, she wanted to see how her partner went about her work. She, too, would eventually be required to conduct her own interviews, and though she was not new to public relations, Daisy's energy provided a unique approach to forging a connection with another person.

 _And it really is unique,_ she thought, watching the journalist's body language as she spoke. Daisy was animated, her expression at once open and curious about what the man in front of her had to say. She seemed genuinely interested in the topic that they were discussing, and as Shen observed the interview, she filed the information away for later use. Sadly, though, she was not able to observe for long, for the discussion was restricted by the length of the meteorologist's break period. But before the man could leave, Shen was able – at Daisy's request – to take a picture of him for the purpose of possibly adding the snapshot to the article that would be drafted when the girls could find the time and resources to turn the recording that Daisy had taken into a proper literary composition. And with that promise, the man went back to work with a spring in his step, leaving the pair to chat amongst themselves.

"So when do you think that we'll be able to do something with this?" Shen asked, placing her camera back into its bag. "We won't be finding an office anytime soon."

"We should be able to make a story out of this for the Kalos team when we get to a better area," the journalist replied. "The good hotels usually have a small office with a computer for businessmen to make conference calls and write reports with. We can use the computer to type up the article, and then I can show you how we upload all the data to the region server. It'll be great, I promise!"

Once more, Shen felt herself smiling, infected by Daisy's enthusiasm, and that infection soon led to a chuckle, followed by a shake of her head. "You're really something, Daisy."

"Aww, thanks! You're doing great, too!"

-/-

Eventually, time caught up with them, and Shen left Daisy in order to return to her room. Sleep wasn't easily forthcoming, however, for as she opened the door to that room, she noticed that the Gardevoir had returned from its trip. The sheet that she'd lent it had been neatly folded and left upon a table beside her bed, but the Psychic itself was sitting in a chair, a paperback book held in one green hand.

Upon entering the room for the first time, before she'd left to support Daisy, Shen had noticed that the hostel's staff had been kind enough to leave some reading material for its clientele. But given that the vast majority of said clientele was made up of Trainers, the reading material was mostly composed of the magazines and handbooks designed to guide one on the path to understanding such concepts as battles, type matchups, and general strengths. The book that the Gardevoir held was no different: titled _How to Make Friends with Ghosts,_ the back cover bore a legend that promised to accustom a new Trainer to the quirks of the ethereal in order to better handle the creatures in combat. It _was_ a little odd, though, to see a Pokémon reading a book meant for a being that _controlled_ Pokémon. Perhaps it was trying to get some insight on how humans thought?

Regardless of its motive, though, and in light of the fact that Psychic-Types were far more than intelligent enough to read, Shen didn't really need to wonder about why the Gardevoir had taken the book for itself. So instead of spending time with such a development, she started a different tack.

"Oh, hi," she said. "I didn't think you'd be back already. Did you have fun out there?"

One red eye flicked from the book to her face, and the Gardevoir shrugged, its attention quite obviously taken with what it was reading. Seeing this, Shen left it alone, setting her camera bag on the table alongside her sheet and settling down on the bed with the device to review the photographs she'd taken of the meteorologist. As usual, she'd taken far more than she'd possibly have any use for, but the act of sifting through the bundle of nearly fifty shots in order to find the two or three that would best fit the story was relaxing, in its own way. The process was fairly simple for her, for she already had an idea of what she wanted for the article. But some of the pictures were blurry or shaken due to movement and the camera's auto-stabilizers, and so she had to delve into the pile in order to weed these out. Other pictures failed to have the ideal lighting or angle that she'd been aiming for, and so these were thrown out, as well.

It was when she'd cut her captured shots down to about ten that she noticed a tiny rectangle sticking out from underneath her camera bag. Curious, she reached out, taking it in her fingers, and looked it over.

 _What's this?_

The rectangle turned out to be a business card. It had been painted with a gradient of crimson and black, the embossed design on its face all sharp edges and jagged angles. But as she turned the card in her hand, trying to make sense of the image, she reached an angle where the card, viewed at a certain degree of tilt, revealed a word amongst all the edges and angles: Tattler.

 _What?_ the photographer thought, stunned. _What's one of the_ Tattler's _cards doing here? Didn't I leave their team behind in Slateport?_

That, however, was a somewhat silly train of thought, and Shen calmed her growing stress, forcing herself to approach the situation logically. After all, newspapers and magazines alike had more than one team of reporters at their beck and call, so it was entirely possible that the crew that had been carrying the card that she now held was not the one that she'd met in Slateport City, or that there even _was_ a crew to carry the card in the first place. A tourist, for example, could have picked up the card from another town, but if that were true, why would it be on a table in a room that only she had the key to?

 _Well, me and this Gardevoir,_ she corrected herself. She'd given the Psychic one of the two keys she'd been trusted with in order to give it some freedom, so it was also possible that the Pokémon had picked up the card itself and left it there. And since that particular theory was far more plausible than that of someone breaking into her room to drop their business card, she decided to test her theory.

"Hey," she said, getting the Psychic's attention. "Can I ask you something?" Its eye flicked back to her, and she continued. "Was this here when you got back, or did you find it outside?"

One green thumb was jerked in the direction of the window, and Shen frowned.

 _Well, then, I suppose it's time to play 'twenty questions'._

"So it was outside. Was it on the ground?" she asked first, earning a shake of its head for her trouble. "Did someone give it to you, then?"

In reply, it made a swiping motion with one hand. Shen stared at this, pairing together the action with words.

"You took it from someone."

Nod.

"Was that person one of those people that tried to take your picture at the ocean?"

The Gardevoir thought for a moment, most likely dredging up the memory of the _Tattler_ crew for itself, and then nodded once more.

"Is that person in this building?"

Nod.

"Are they in this building _right now?"_

One more nod, this time paired with the expression of a creature that was trying very hard to be patient with her.

"Oh, _great."_

It _was_ the team she'd met in Slateport, after all. And they had the same goal that she did: to reach Lilycove City and steal her opportunity to make an article for her newspaper. But she'd be damned if she'd let that happen, and so she stood, still holding the card, and sighed.

"I'm going to find them. Would you stay here, please? They'll probably do something crazy if they see you again, and I'd like to avoid that."

The Gardevoir's eyebrow rose, as if to ask her just why she thought it could possibly want to leave the room, and she placed the card into her pocket before returning the way she had come.

 _And now, we try some reconnaissance._


	12. xii

The mission that Shen had taken upon herself – to find the _Tattler_ crew that was unwittingly following her party – was rather simple to accomplish, for there was only one place in the building that the general public could freely access once they had left the lobby: the cafeteria. Her last visit to that area had not yielded much in the way of results, but given the fact that she had been paying far more attention to the person that Daisy had chosen to interview at that time, there hadn't been any chance to look for anyone specific in the crowd of tourists and workers that had swarmed the room.

 _And on top of that,_ she thought as her feet carried her though the lobby, _I hadn't really considered that any other news team would be so close behind us. But I suppose that I should be expecting that sort of thing now, since I'm working in a competitive field._

With that revelation firmly in mind, she reentered the cafeteria.

The number of people that had been using the area that she walked into had lessened during the time she'd spent in her room. But there were still plenty of people eating, talking, or simply enjoying what time they could get away from their jobs, and this gave Shen a bit of a challenge in finding the specific people that she was looking for. But with enough time and attention, she found them.

The _Tattler_ team had taken a corner booth in an effort to keep away from the main crowd, and looked to be in a rather involved conversation. But the only thing on Shen's mind was the task of sizing up her competition, and so, after considering her options, she did something that any normal person would have avoided when faced with a man and woman that might have recognized them from an earlier encounter: she walked right up to their booth, feigning surprise at seeing the occupants.

"Oh, wow! Aren't you two from the news? I could just _swear_ that I recognized the logo on your shirts, so I had to come and see."

Interrupted mid-sentence, the woman turned a dirty look her way. " _Excuse_ me. Don't you have any manners? It's rude to butt in on someone else's discussi-"

"Lyri, would you relax? _You're_ the one being rude here." The man sitting at the table sighed, shaking his head, and turned to Shen. "Please forgive my friend here. It's been a long couple of days for us." A wry smile turned his mouth. "I'm Rick. This here's Lyri. We're with the _Tattler,_ so it's probably no surprise that you recognized the logos. They get around these days, after all."

"You work around here, kid?" Lyri asked, ignoring her companion's warmer tone. "I haven't seen you around here tonight."

The look in the woman's eye set off alarm bells in Shen's head, but the girl already had her story ready. "Yeah. I'm on my break right now, so I thought I'd get something to eat. But what are guys like you doing here? There's no news in a storm like this."

She had to keep the woman talking, Shen knew. That kind of sly gaze was one born of suspicion; without a distraction, she'd pick out any lie that the photographer could dream up. But Shen had picked up a trump card in the past few days: Daisy's innocent demeanor, which provided a surprising shield against the kind of scrutiny that Lyri was turning her way.

 _After all,_ she thought, _people tend to overlook the innocent._ But Lyri had opened her mouth once more.

"It's not the storm we're after, kid. It's what's on the other side of it."

"Well, Lyri," Rick replied, "you know that we technically _could_ spin something on why the storm's here. It's been a while since the old rag's done one of those 'great conspiracy' serials. Why not try one of those for a change?"

"You know how long that would take, don't you? The boss said to prioritize this; I don't like the old coot, but he _does_ sign our paychecks, and he was serious about the mission. We don't have time to sit down and hash out something that involved." The woman sighed. "I mean, it's not like I wouldn't _like_ to spend a few days working with a treat like this damned storm, but if we've got to get over to the east coast, then we've got to do what we're told. Even if we don't enjoy it."

" _Especially_ if we don't enjoy it, you mean?"

"Yeah."

The next few minutes were spent with Shen asking some questions of the pair, gaining a bit more insight into the people that she was working against. Apparently, they had joined onto their magazine's payroll three years prior to their current assignment for varying reasons: he, because he wanted to see the world; she, because she'd wanted to get away from her old job and her parents' constant needling.

"They wanted me to settle down with some guy and have a family," Lyri spat. "Honestly, do you think I'd _want_ to be part of some arranged marriage? I just want to have fun."

And this said, she reached to her side and flipped open the flap on a satchel, her hand disappearing within its depths. But while Shen continued speaking to Rick, a change overcame the woman: the movements of the hand that she had stuck in her satchel slowly became more frantic, until she had both hands in the bag and everyone else's attention on her.

"Lyri, are you okay?" Rick asked her. "What's gotten into you?"

The woman looked up at him. "Where's my notepad?"

"Your notepad?" he replied. "Wait, isn't it in your bag?"

"I _know_ that, Rick. I just _looked_ in my bag, and it's not here!" The woman's eyes turned to Shen's face in the next moment, and the girl found herself skewered by the intensity of her glare. "You didn't take it, did you?"

Shen stammered, but the journalist's companion was already speaking. "Lyri, she's been standing right here the entire time. What, do you think she's going to reach across the table, past you, and find a bag that she didn't even know existed until you started rooting around in it? Just leave her alone, okay? I've got another pad you can use."

"Damn it, Rick, that pad had the notes from our last interview! It'll be hell trying to make up that article without it!" Clearly upset, the woman rose, throwing her arms to either side of herself. "When are we going to have another chance like that?"

"We'll be _fine,"_ the cameraman answered, his voice remarkably level despite his partner's distress. "I'm the one who kept hold of the tape recorders, remember? And I took some notes of my own. We can go back to my room and put the whole thing together again before we set off tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, fine. This place was getting dull, anyway." And with that, the woman stood up, heaved her satchel onto her shoulder, and walked off. Watching her leave, her companion shook his head.

"Sorry about that. Lyri's a bit… high-strung. But she isn't too bad once you get to know her."

Somehow, Shen doubted that. But she let none of that skepticism show, instead nodding her head. "I hope she'll be okay."

"Oh, she'll be fine. She just has a lot of steam to blow off right now. But we'll burn some midnight oil and rip through the problem." Grunting with the effort of stretching his legs, the man rose and extended his hand. "It was nice meeting you. See you again somewhere."

Shen shook his hand, and as he walked away, suppressed a sigh of relief. The man – Rick – hadn't asked her name, and that was good, for she hadn't had to resort to lying any more than had been necessary. He'd even been fairly understanding in the face of his partner's vitriol, keeping Shen from taking the full brunt of Lyri's attitude. But, she reminded herself, despite the man's reasonable attitude, he also worked for a company that went out of its way to ruin peoples' lives. And he hadn't been too reluctant to spin off a simple storm as some kind of conspiracy, which showed a streak of indifference that was somewhat off-putting as a personality trait.

 _But I guess that that's just how the_ Tattler _works,_ she mused. _If they didn't have people that were ready to think that way, and people ready to_ accept _that kind of thinking, they wouldn't be as successful as they are._

 _I guess it takes all kinds to make the world turn. But people like them are really hard to be around, and if they're here…_

Her return to her room and the resulting reentry was less than subtle, and as she secured the deadbolt upon the door, she sighed, leaning forward to rest her head against the wood.

"…If they're here, then this is going to be a lot harder."

The sound of a book being closed behind her startled her out of the melancholy state she'd been about to immerse herself into, and she turned, meeting the Gardevoir's gaze. She'd lent her voice to her thoughts by accident, and with something approaching contrition, she spoke to it.

"I'm sorry. You've been so quiet that I forgot you were here. You remember those people from the ocean, right? The ones whose camera you broke? Well, they kind of have the same mission as Daisy and I do right now: they're after a man who's coming to this area by ship."

It was the work of a few minutes for her to detail the kind of work that she'd been assigned to do, but the Gardevoir nodded at the end, and Shen continued. "We have to get to Lilycove City before they do, or they'll take our story. _My_ story. And I can't let that happen, especially when I've just gotten hired, so we'll need to get a head start if we want to beat them to the job."

The Psychic leaned back in its chair and folded its arms, tilting its head. The movement was not unlike that of someone asking what she might do in that situation, and so she answered.

"The way I see it, we have two options. We can wake up early in order to get ahead, or…"

She didn't want to complete her sentence. But the Psychic was rolling its hand in an obvious 'continue' motion, and the words came out of her mouth before reason could tighten its leash on her tongue.

"…or we can sabotage something, and force them to stay behind."

The Gardevoir's eyes popped wide, and for a moment, a single second, she was treated to a completely different twist to its otherwise imperturbable expression: surprise. And in truth, she was _also_ surprised, for she hadn't expected the kind of concept that had suddenly brewed in the colder regions of her heart.

 _But what else can I do?_ she thought. _I don't want to lose my job by losing my story to those two people. Not this early. But I can't just go and hurt someone by messing with something that I shouldn't…_

"Oh, you know what?" she said, a sigh on the end of the words. "Never mind. We'll just get up early and get out of here before anyone wakes up. I'll figure out something that we can do to get ahead while we're traveling, so we'd better turn in."

With that said, she stepped into the bathroom, changed her clothes, and headed to bed, dimming the lights so as not to keep her companion from reading, should it have chosen to forego sleep to do so. But because she chose to face away from the creature in order to give it some privacy, she missed the moment when the Gardevoir's lips turned upward, curling into a smile that would have stunned her, had she seen it.

For in that smile lay a purely devious intent.

-/-

The next morning brought a surprise along with it: in the night, the storm had wreaked havoc upon the rope-and-log bridge that served as the crossing over the gorge that cut its way south, bisecting the route that the girls had walked up the day before. Lightning had apparently struck the construct, setting the ropes alight at the end nearest the Weather Institute and sending the bridge swinging flat to the rocks at the other side. Without it, there would be no transit to Fortree City, but there was one saving grace: the maintenance crew on station at the Weather Institute was well-versed in dealing with that situation.

"Oh, it happens all the time," one of them said when Daisy asked him if he knew about the bridge's destruction. "That's why we use rope and wood, you see. If we used more valuable materials to fix this kind of problem, we'd lose a lot of money the next time it broke, so we go with the sturdiest option for the cheapest price. But don't you worry your head about it, little miss. We'll have it repaired in a jiffy."

As it turned out, a 'jiffy' translated to about three hours of labor, in which a man threw out a grapnel on a line and snared the loose end of the bridge as it hung in the ravine. Once his hook had found a solid grip on the structure, more men came to assist him, taking the high-tension wire and hauling the bridge back into its original place. When this was done, the line was secured while the workers replaced the burned ropes with fresh ones, retied the bridge to its grounding posts, and inspected for any damage that might have been sustained from its impact with the far side of the gorge. But soon enough, their work was done, and the man who had answered Daisy's question allowed the journalist and photographer to cross the newly-repaired bridge… after he had done so himself first.

"We still can't be entirely sure that it's safe," he said when he had gained the opposite side, "so make sure to hold on tightly to the supports, and walk carefully. If the bridge goes, the wire will hold everything in place until we can fix it again."

He didn't mention that since the bridge was only anchored by one wire, a pedestrian might find themselves hanging upside-down if the bridge's ropes were to fly apart. But the work turned out to be solidly done, and the girls soon found themselves on solid land once more.

The Gardevoir, not being inside a Poké Ball, crossed last, taking steady steps upon the logs to reach its destination. With Daisy already talking to the worker in order to find out more about the bridge, Shen's attention was fixed upon their conversation, and so she was startled when the man lunged forward, one arm outstretched.

"Hey! Get off the bridge!"

The sound hit her as she turned back to the chasm: the _snap_ of ropes, followed by the _twang_ of steel wire. Before her very eyes, the bridge fell, its supporting lines severed on the side closest to her… and the Gardevoir, still trying to cross, fell along with it.

 _Oh, God, no._

Before she could even comprehend what had happened, she was running towards the gap, looking down to see the bridge as it swung down to hit the rock wall on the opposite side. But of the Psychic, there was no sign, and she looked back at the worker, her eyes wide with horror.

"Hurry! Get a rope or something! Someone needs to-"

And her sentence trailed off, for standing beside Daisy, regarding her with something very much like amusement on its pale face, was the Gardevoir. Shock, followed by confusion, swamped any sort of worry she'd had not a moment before, and the photographer pointed at the Pokémon, exasperation entering her tone.

"How… why are you _there?_ I just saw you fall!"

"It Teleported, Shen!" Daisy answered, an ear-to-ear grin stretching her cheeks. "It just popped up next to me when you were running over to the canyon." She patted the Psychic on the shoulder. "You've got a really cool Pokémon here, you know!"

Shen's confusion was further dampened as the worker walked forward, picking up the loose end of the metal cable from its anchoring point. "Damn it. We should have tested this thing before we used it." Sighing, the man turned, facing Shen. "Miss, I'm terribly sorry. I shouldn't have let you and your friend cross without completely checking the repairs and our equipment; we just got this cable back from the shop, and one of you could have been killed if the ropes had snapped any sooner than they did. That was a serious error on my part, and I hope you can forgive me for that.

"You should make sure that you didn't leave anything on the other side, though," he finished. "Without our cable, it's going to be at least a few days before we can get the bridge back up from this side."

Despite her rattled state, the photographer was quick to reassure the man that the situation was fine, that they'd gotten everything they needed, and that she didn't blame the workers for the incident. Daisy soon pitched in with a few enthusiastic comments of her own, and before too much longer, the girls were on their way once more with the worker's farewell at their back, and the crew on the opposite side of the gorge working to winch the bridge up once more.

As they continued down the road, Daisy wasted no time in waxing over the event that had occurred, the disaster that they had narrowly avoided. To her, such an occurrence was thrilling in its own way, as well as a relief in the knowing that nothing bad had actually happened to anyone. But Shen wasn't so sure, for something didn't quite add up.

Why, she wondered, had the bridge collapsed as the Gardevoir had crossed instead of while Daisy, the worker, and her very own self had been making the transit over the gorge? Though the weight of each of them – especially the worker – could have caused the ropes to snap, the mass of a Pokémon that weighed less than _any_ of them shouldn't have been able to trigger the break. And on top of that, the high-tension cable had been destroyed. _That_ shouldn't have happened in _any_ circumstance, for a wire like that was built to take incredible pressure. Even the weight of a truck wouldn't have been able to snap it.

 _Unless…_

Her eye flicked to the Gardevoir walking behind her, and in that moment, a single thought shot through her mind: had the Psychic taken her idea of sabotage and _ran_ with it? Such an idea was ridiculous, of course, for she'd seen nothing to suggest that it had done anything but try to cross the bridge, but for some reason, she just couldn't shake the fact that it had actually chosen to act upon the idea she'd had the previous night.

 _I mean, it_ is _a Psychic, after all. If it could Teleport to safety, it could also have destroyed the ropes_ – _all of them – at any time, and make it seem like it was an accident. And since we didn't see the_ Tattler _crew before we left, there's a good chance that they're stranded at the Weather Institute now, which gives us what I wanted in the first place: a head start._

But though she searched its face for answers, the Pokémon's expression remained still, and she ultimately sighed, turning her head and returning her attention to the road.

 _No. No, it couldn't have done something like that. I'm just being paranoid._

"Hey, Shen! Look over there! Is that Fortree City?"

Dutifully, the photographer followed Daisy's extended finger into the distance, where a cluster of trees drew the eye. These trees were taller – _far_ taller – than their counterparts within the forest surrounding them, and as such, it made for a rather dead giveaway that there was something of note within that particular area. And given the fact that their travels had now taken them past the Weather Institute, the very last stop on the way to a populated area, Shen nodded to her companion.

"That definitely looks like it, yes. It shouldn't take too long to get there if we take our ti-"

Her sentence cut off with a yelp as Daisy grabbed her hand and shot forward, dragging Shen along as the journalist went pell-mell for leather to their next destination.

"Let's go, Shen! It's a new place to see!"


	13. xiii

From what Shen could remember of the arboreal atmosphere that Daisy dragged her into, Fortree City had been established in a clearing in Hoenn's northern forest long, long ago. Settlers in the area had brought a selection of seedlings from overseas, and though none of them had lived to witness the fruits of their labor, the hundred-foot-tall trees that served as shelter for the townsfolk were a living memorial to those that had lived and died to make the city into the home that it was for so many others. To Shen, it was an opportunity to take pictures, for the sheer size of the trees and the walkways that connected each of them to each other far above her head provided viewpoints that nearly had her salivating. So when the reporter released her hand, Shen left her partner to scale one of the rope ladders that hung down from a tree, quickly entering the world that awaited her in the sky.

The ladder had been anchored about halfway up one of the larger trees, secured to a platform that clung to the trunk. As she mounted the platform, a hand touched her shoulder; looking back, Shen saw that an older woman was standing behind her, a kindly expression lighting her face.

"You'll need to wear a harness if you want to be up this far, dearie."

The reason for such a statement was obvious, but as the woman produced a set of buckled straps from her person, the photographer began asking questions. And while she strapped herself into the harness, she discovered a little more of the history of the place she'd come to.

As it turned out, the higher level of the city was used for housing due to the fact that the western route – the one that Shen and Daisy had just left behind – was so inundated with water that the earth beneath the trees was just a little too soggy to sink a concrete foundation. Many a prospective builder in Fortree's legend had lost his investment to a sinkhole, and so, as the trees that the original settlers had grown, the decision was made to use the trees themselves to provide the homes that the citizens so desperately needed. This was accomplished by creating platforms just like the one she stood on with wood taken from lesser trees within the forest: properly seasoned, finished, and protected against the elements with an air-and-weatherproof coating, the boards that made up the 'floor' in the sky were attached to each other and the tree's trunk with an iron-tough adhesive made from sap and a batch of assorted chemicals that the woman did not quite know how to pronounce. Still, the use of this adhesive allowed the trees to grow without suffering the pain of nails, and kept the boards from the effects of age, which in turn had let the inhabitants of the treetop bungalows preserve their way of life for generations.

"But you see, my dear," the woman said as Shen finished buckling on her harness, "it's still very high here. You'll need to keep your harness on if you want to walk around up here, but don't forget to clip yourself to the transit cables!"

The 'transit cables', Shen found, were a set of metal wires that strung above the platforms and walkways, designed to let tenants and tourists alike find a little more in the way of safety by clipping themselves to one of these lines. Being fifty feet above the ground, the extra measure certainly had some worth, and so she took the climbing clip that came attached to the longest strap of her harness and secured herself to the nearest cable. With this done, she could finally unlimber her camera bag, and with a smile running across her lips, she set about her work. And while she worked, the world fell away, until there was nothing left but her, her camera, and the _click_ of the shutter.

-/-

While Shen took her pictures, Daisy decided to take the opportunity to explore the town. She wasn't worried about her partner, for Shen was just one of those people that tended to get lost in their work. She'd met enough of that brand of person in Kalos: some were stubborn, confrontational, or just plain spoiled, but the girl she'd met on the continent she'd been called to seemed to have none of those qualities. Much like Daisy herself, Shen was simply passionate about her work, and it was that similarity that had tilted the reporter to consider her a friend so quickly. After all, someone who put so much heart into her art couldn't be _all_ bad, could they?

But that train of thought was shortly eclipsed by the sights that there were to see in the city that she'd now found herself in. Though a fair amount of the buildings around her were of the brick-and-mortar variety, such as the local Pokémon Center and its nearby market, there were far, far more that seemed to be constructed from bushes, branches, and even the _rocks_ that would have otherwise been found on riversides, the moss that covered them acting as carpeting or cushions for patrons to make use of. It was beautiful for someone who had spent most of her life in plains and cities, and she fawned over them accordingly, asking the owner of one of the structures if such buildings were actually useful during everyday life.

"Why, yes," came the reply, voiced from a man wearing a large woven hat. He was selling items underneath his canopy of sticks and leaves: fruits, vegetables, and some handmade trinkets for tourists and Trainers alike to sample. Being the enterprising person she was, Daisy bought one of the latter for herself, tucking a bracelet of wooden beads into her bag while the man continued. "They're very well-ventilated during the summer, and when winter rolls around, we can rearrange the foliage to block the chill. And, of course, they're good for the environment, since we don't have to make space in the forest for buildings if the building is _part_ of the forest."

That made a lot of sense to Daisy, and she said as much, thanking the man before moving onward. There were more people to talk to, and a whole lot more to see. The knowledge of such a thing made her indescribably happy, for a new world had been opened to her upon her entry into Hoenn, and this world had shown itself to be full of new opportunities to learn.

She didn't want to miss a single one.

-/-

It was some time later that Shen reappeared, climbing down from one of the ladders that hung from the platforms above. She looked positively bushed, as if she'd run a marathon on top of the trees, and perhaps she had; there _was_ a lot of ground to cover that far up, after all. But she also looked happy, and that was all that mattered. So Daisy smiled, walked over to the photographer, and held out the trinket she'd gotten for her friend's review. "Hey, look at this, Shen! Isn't it _fantastic?_ I can't believe that people here have such great ideas with their shops!"

"It's certainly different around here," Shen replied, unbuckling what appeared to be a harness from herself while she spoke. "There's housing up in the trees, and some of the things that they've done with wood are astounding. Did you know that they didn't even use any nails for all that scaffolding up there? It's just held by glue and ropes."

" _No. Way._ Really? I've _got_ to see it! Do you think we can switch places?"

"Sure," the photographer said, handing her the harness. "Just make sure to clip yourself to one of the safety lines up there. It's a long drop if you fall."

"All right. I'll see you later, then!" And, taking the harness from Shen's hand, the reporter set off to enter the world above her head, scaling the trunk of the tree that her friend had just descended. Shen, however, stayed behind, and while she watched her partner climb upwards, Daisy's sun dress billowing in the breeze, she heard the _crunch_ of a twig as a foot pressed down upon the loam.

"Oh, there you are," she said, turning her head. "I was wondering where you were."

The Gardevoir sniffed in reply, and Shen shrugged. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter where you went. But if you don't mind, I'm getting a bit hungry after all that running around that I did up in the trees, and I'd like to get into my backpack. There's some apples in th-"

Reflex sent her hand to meet a red sphere as she finished her sentence, and her attention was suddenly focused on the apple that the Psychic had tossed to her.

"You've been looking into my backpack," she said. There was no other explanation for its knowledge of where she'd put her apples, since she hadn't actually told it where they were, but she was careful to frame the words as a statement, not an accusation. "So you know where everything else is, right?"

The Gardevoir nodded, and after a moment, she smiled at it.

"Then would you toss me my bag of trail mix, too?"

-/-

It took time for the pair to thoroughly explore the city, for each of them had their own desires that needed satisfying. But even Daisy eventually found her fill of information, and so the girls made the decision to continue onward.

East of Fortree City lay Route 120, a path that slowly wound its way southwards. Though not nearly as rainy as its counterpart to the west, this trail did have something that the other did not: reservoirs. Part of the runoff from Route 119 found its way to this area through underground channels and other such escape routes, filling natural depressions in the earth and creating a set of gently rippling lakes for Trainers and tourists alike to enjoy. And enjoy them the photographer did, taking a set of pictures of the northern lake while Daisy marveled at the scenery. But speed was of the essence at this point, and even though the sun was painting a lovely picture for the taking, Shen was forced to tear herself away from the opportunity in order to progress further south, through fields of tall grass and around puddles of muddy water that served as a hazard for those who chose to make their way through the area. But the air was clear, the breeze was soothing, and as they walked, the girls found the time to chat, and Shen was able to wheedle her companion into expanding upon the personal history that she'd touched upon back in Mauville City.

Once upon a time, Daisy had been a country girl, a person born and raised in the rolling plains of Kalos's southwestern region. Her younger days had been spent in fields of sweetgrass, whiling away her hours amongst the gentle beauty of nature and the peace of the world she'd been brought into by her parents. But in those days, she'd felt a certain disquiet, some unfulfilled desire, and though she'd tried mightily to suppress it, the strain of doing so was depressing. But thankfully, her father had taken notice of his daughter's melancholy. One fine morning, just after her twelfth birthday, he'd asked her to take a basket to another town, a place that she'd never gone before, in order to buy some bread. And that had been the start of it.

The journey that Daisy had that day left an indelible mark upon her soul. It was thrilling to travel, she found, to expand her horizons and see new places. And talking to people, learning even more about lifestyles and experiences from someone who actually lived there, was the icing on her cake, for the fulfillment that she felt upon hearing these stories turned out to be the most satisfying thing in her life. And so, when the girl returned home that night, and after telling her parents all about her adventures, her father said something that would serve as the compass for her life.

"Why not become a reporter, Daisy? They travel a lot, and they talk to people, too."

The twelve-year-old that heard those words had not even imagined that there was a kind of person that could do those things. The twenty-year-old that eventually found work with a newspaper's fledgling office hadn't imagined that she would actually _become_ one of those people, and from that moment forward, she'd quite possibly been the happiest person on the face of the planet. She had thrown herself into her work with a will that only she could summon, working to expand the footprint of her parent company. And in four short years, she had risen to be one of that company's brightest stars, coveted by her superiors and beloved of her coworkers for her boundless energy and unbreakable spirit.

The story was something that, in addition to increasing the budding respect that Shen held for her companion, helped to make the miles they walked pass by just that much faster. But faster than they was the sun, whose progress began to overtake them as they made the turn to the east that announced their final approach to Lilycove City. With the light beginning to fade, the conversation turned to the question of where the girls were going to spend the night, and it was here that Daisy chose to field an idea.

"How about there?" she said, pointing to a spot in the distance. "That looks like a _great_ place to rest!"

Shen followed her companion's finger to its destination and gave an involuntary start as a misted peak came into view. For a moment, she faltered, staring at the place that Daisy had indicated, but common sense soon calmed what might have otherwise blossomed into disbelief.

 _No, she can't possibly want to go there. I must have been looking the wrong way._

"Where do you mean?" she asked. "I mean, there's probably some shelter in that direction, but I'm not sure about camping out here."

"No, silly! I'm talking about the mountain over there. Isn't it called… Mt. Pyro, or something?"

"'Pyro'? You mean Mt. _Pyre?_ Well…"

"Yes, that's it!" the journalist said. "That mountain'sMt. Pyre? Really?"

It was, and Shen took a moment to explain the little that she knew about it. The mountain that Daisy seemed so ecstatic about was in fact a sacred site, a natural feature of the land repurposed for one of life's natural occurrences: death. As Hoenn's most lauded place of final rest, the landmark served as a minor tourist attraction, drawing in the odd set of vacationers that wanted to add a bit of thrill to their lives by touring a graveyard. There were, of course, other graveyards on the continent, for any city or village naturally possessed a place for those souls reaching their end to be buried. However, the mountain had a certain magnetism for certain people; Daisy, it seemed, was one of those.

"Well, that's fantastic! I've always wanted to sleep up there!"

Shen could hardly believe her ears. Coming to a complete stop as the words floated through the evening air, she turned to the reporter, disbelief entering her voice.

"You want to sleep _in a graveyard?"_

"Oh, I'm sure that no one's going to mind. After all, everyone over there's already sleeping. We'd just be a bit more temporary than they are, that's all. And because it's somewhere I haven't gone to yet, that makes it a place to explore. What better place to expand my horizons than somewhere that I haven't been before?"

There wasn't much that Shen could do in the way of arguing the point after that, for Daisy had her sights set on that exact camping spot, and try though she might, the photographer simply couldn't fathom the thought of ruining whatever hopes her companion had. So rather than press the issue, she followed behind a now-infused reporter to the southernmost edge of the route, where the road encountered the sapphire expanse of a river-fed lake. There, in a place where the land's water moved towards the sea, stood the mountain, a moat-ringed spire that stretched far enough into the sky to have its topmost peak enshrouded in mist. Seeing her destination so clearly served as a boost to Daisy's step, and the two – one quick, one hesitant – made their way completely off of the path and down a small set of steps to a dock that jutted out over the water.

They soon found that there was a ferry to the mountain, and as they were carted across the rippling waters, the ferryman told them that Daisy's request actually wasn't all that rare. In fact, there were a fair amount of people that chose to spend their nights on the mountain; because of their traffic, the caretakers of the graveyard had taken a necessary step and purified certain portions of the mountain's face in order to ensure that visitors wishing to extend their stay would be able to do so without the fear of being visited _themselves_ by the rightful denizens of any cemetery: ghosts. Specifically, Ghost- _Types,_ which were by and large the most dangerous of all Pokémon. Trainers were _strongly_ warned to treat these Pokémon with compassion and care; after all, there was no other breed of creature that could not only break the mind, but steal away the soul.

 _But if the area's purified, then it should be all right to stay the night there,_ Shen thought, her eyes on the peak of the mountain as it floated closer. _I mean, it's not as if people get the souls sucked out of them on a regular basis, right? It's probably just one of those things that happens on holidays or festivals or some other special occasion._

However, despite her attempt at humor, no thought could help to soothe the unease she felt as their detour loomed closer.

 _I hope that Daisy knows what she's doing..._

-/-

Upon reaching Mt. Pyre, the girls were greeted by an attendant. This person, a woman clad in an oddly cut white-and-red garment, welcomed them, and asked to which grave they might be visiting. Daisy was quick to express her desire, and upon hearing it, the attendant nodded, beckoning them off of the wooden dock and into an arched tunnel that led into the depths of the mountain. This tunnel soon led to a room where a veritable sea of candles burned, and it was through the roads indicated by these lights that they progressed.

"This isn't a particularly uncommon request," the woman said as they walked. "There are plenty of family members that desire a bit more in the way of… connecting with the departed. We try to accommodate them when necessary."

"That's what the boatman told us," Daisy said. "It's just _great_ that you'd want to help people that way!"

The reporter's attitude, as always, was infectious, and the sheer amount of exuberance that Daisy radiated seemed to loosen the attendant's tongue. As such, Shen soon ventured questions of her own, learning that the outfit their guide wore was a traditional wrap that those charged with maintaining the cemetery donned as a form of respect for those that had already gone to their rest.

"We tend to think of them as residents," the woman said, the hint of a smile flashing across her lips. "They're a sort of family, if you care to make that leap, but unlike most families, they don't really get out much. So we take care of their graves and entertain the spirits that come here, and for the most part, everyone's happy."

"For the most part?" Daisy asked. "So there's things that happen here that make people _un_ happy?"

"Yes, actually: crimes. Over the years, we have had several instances of grave-robbing. Events like these are usually perpetrated by troubled souls against those that are left gifts at their tombs by family members or friends. However, we have a security system in place. The spirits of those departed, you see, do not take kindly to thieves, and have a harsh method of dealing with them."

"You mean…" Shen began, and almost instantly cut herself off, for her train of thought was obvious. The woman, hearing the slight tremor in her tone, shook her head.

"Oh, no. The spirits here are not like that. The thieves were simply detained here until morning, then taken into custody by law enforcement. However, I do think that the children were eager enough to depart once having been treated to a night with our more… rambunctious spirits." The attendant shook herself, as if cutting herself off from a further explanation, and pointed to a set of stairs that lay to one side of the room. "Regardless, there is a spot for campers up those stairs, on the face of the mountainside. We have made that place sacrosanct, immune to the wiles of ghosts. But just as it is your right to stay here, it is also the ghosts' right to remove you from their home. And remove you they will, should you leave the safety of your campsite before dawn.

"Before you go, though, take these," she added, handing each of the girls a piece of paper. "They are talismans, and will serve to deter wandering souls. Keep them safe, respect my advice and the graves on the mountainside, and I promise that you shall enjoy your time with us."

The story the woman had told was unsettling, but despite the content of her tale, the attendant seemed genuinely concerned with their safety. So, as Daisy uttered her thanks and bounced her way over to the stairs, Shen held back, stopping the woman before she could return to the entrance.

"I'm sorry, but I completely forgot my manners." Smiling awkwardly, the photographer held out a hand to the attendant. "My name's Shen. Thanks for the advice."

"You're welcome," the woman said, taking her hand. "And my name is Saire."

-/-

The staircase that Saire had indicated turned out to present a somewhat extended climb, but the reward for such an effort was an unparalleled view of the lake as it shimmered in the light of the afternoon sun. Automatically, Shen snapped a few pictures of the scene for later use, her fingers moving to bring the captured stills up for review on the device's attached screen.

 _Perhaps I should make a 'vista' category in my portfolio,_ she thought, skimming the shots of the lake and the bridge that she'd crossed earlier that day. _At this rate, I'll have enough material to fill out a travel journal._

She turned from the scene at a call from Daisy, who had made her way into a rectangular spot a bit further away. This spot, cleared of all grass and paved with pea gravel, stood out as a stark difference to the soft green and brown of the rest of the area. But even if such a place had not practically screamed 'campsite' to those visiting the mountain, two further features cemented its designation: a sign, and a waist-high rope fence upon which a veritable forest of talismans hung, each identical to the ones that the attendant had given to them.

'Designated Camping Area', the sign read. But the words came with a warning attached to the bottom of the sign.

 _Do not, for any reason, leave the roped area after dark._

Shen knew that the last line had been added to deter the adventurous from endangering themselves, for while Daisy had every confidence in her sleeping spot, Saire had outlined some very, _very_ good reasons why people were discouraged from visiting graveyards at night. Thinking this, though, she shook her head, for all she was doing was increasing her unease.

 _It's fine. The area's been purified: no ghosts will come here._

Still, she couldn't quite shake her doubts, and while her companion somehow managed to pull a shrink-wrapped pop tent from her bag, Shen walked over to the far corner of the camping grounds. There, in a spot near the cliffs, were a set of standing stones, each with a mark on them that the photographer could only guess the meaning to. The rocks were certainly interesting, but her object was something different: the Gardevoir. It, having stayed close behind throughout the journey from Fortree, had chosen to place itself in a hollow created by three of the stones, setting her backpack on a nearby patch of gravel. It also seemed to be dozing, but as she walked up to the Psychic, one red eye opened, swiveling up to her.

"Hey," she said. "Are you… are you going to be okay with staying the night here?"

It didn't respond to that, but she hadn't been expecting a response, and so she continued. "Daisy wants to make camp here tonight, and I can't really tell her 'no', since there's nowhere else we can go at this point. But there tend to be a lot of ghosts in these kinds of areas, so I suppose that I'm… worried." She sighed. "Do you think you can help me keep watch over the area tonight, just in case something happens?"

The Gardevoir's eyebrow rose at the question, but it shook its head, raised a hand, and made a brushing motion in her direction.

"You want me to go away?" she asked, trying to interpret the gesture, and received a nod in return. "Do I not need to keep watch?"

The Psychic shook its head again, then pointed at itself, and the photographer spent a moment in trying to glean the meaning of _that_ movement. Understanding did dawn eventually, however, and she tilted her head, suddenly concerned.

"You… want to do it yourself? Are you sure about that? I mean, I'm fine with helping-"

But the Gardevoir was adamant, if its firm head-shake meant anything as to its decision, and from the folds of its gown, the Pokémon brought a thick paper rectangle into view. Shen soon recognized it as the book that the Psychic had been looking through during their stay at the Weather Institute, and despite her concern, she smiled.

"Wait a second. That's the book that teaches you how to control Ghost-Types, isn't it? Are you honestly telling me that you were _planning_ for a situation like this?"

The Gardevoir opened both eyes then, and though she would question whether she had actually seen the movement, the creature _winked_ at her. Then its attention went to its book, and the girl was left to return to her place with something like humor soothing her previous discomfort.

 _I guess having a Pokémon around isn't so bad after all._

-/-

It didn't take long for Shen to set up her own tent after that, and as the light of the fading sun gave way to the black of night, she settled into her bedding, staring at the canvas that hung just above her head.

She was only a short distance from her destination; when she reached the next town, she'd be able to fulfill the request given her by her employer. And after that, perhaps she would visit the Kalos region with Daisy, like she'd originally been intended to. _That_ was something that she was looking forward to, for the chance to explore a new land was an opportunity that she could scarcely believe she'd been given. There would be pictures – so _many_ pictures – to take. Some, she knew, she'd send home. Some she'd add to her portfolio, to build the collection of achievements that many others would base her skills on. But the majority of the pictures that she collected would serve a greater purpose: to bring information to others. People would use her pictures to give stories context, to understand concepts that would give their lives meaning.

 _Still,_ she thought, closing her eyes, _it'll be nice to have some memories to take home. Kalos is probably beautiful – maybe Mom will like seeing a bit of it._

But she wouldn't see her next step until the morning, and so she let herself sleep.

When she woke, she was alone.


	14. Part I - Chapter 1

When Shen woke, she was alone.

It was a confused girl that sat up and greeted the dawn on top of Mt. Pyre, for the chill of a breeze had brought her back to the waking world, a thing that shouldn't have been possible when she knew very well that she'd gone to sleep in a tent on a patch of purified ground. But the tent was gone. And the gravel she'd _pitched_ that tent on had disappeared, giving way to a field of dew-soaked grass and equally drenched gravestones that stretched as far as she could see.

It didn't take long for Shen to realize that despite the scenery, something was wrong. Her companions, for one, were nowhere in sight; though she called for them, no answer was given. Her camera, too, was missing. And no matter where she looked, all that could be seen through the mist that choked the air were more gravestones.

 _That's… odd._

Had she been sleepwalking? She'd never been guilty of that before, she knew, but there was no other explanation for her being in a completely different place than she'd been the previous night. But if she _had_ been sleepwalking, then she'd strayed out of her campsite in the process, and that led her to consider something else: the warning that had been posted in front of her campsite.

 _Do not, for any reason, leave the roped area after dark._

She was _definitely_ outside the roped area, and the understanding of that fact began to worry her. What _did_ happen, she wondered, to people who ignored the rule? Nothing bad, she hoped, but given that nothing had actually befallen her, the sign placed outside the purified area was most likely a safety measure, intended to keep the curious from risking their health.

 _Well, I have to find Daisy. We've got to get moving; I can't afford to be lollygagging. And where's my camera gotten itself to? I hope that it's still in my tent…_

While she deliberated, the wind kicked up once more, sweeping another breeze past her. The momentary relief that it brought from the mist allowed a ray of sunlight to shine upon Shen's shoulders; though it was certainly nice, what caught her interest in it was that the beam, for a split second, reflected off of something that lay at the head of a nearby grave. Curious, she turned, taking a step toward the source of the flash, and promptly tripped. Her knees swung out to arrest her fall, and as she came to rest in a kneeling position, the girl reached out and placed a hand on the ground, confused as to what she'd stumbled over. But as that hand came into view, she froze, her eyes unable to take in what they were seeing.

Her hand was pink. Not the fair pink-peach color of her otherwise healthy skin, but a solid rose hue, which spread up a set of three pointed fingers and disappeared into the sleeve of a coat that she hadn't even known she was wearing. But she was simply _missing_ two fingers from her hand, and she stared at it, uncomprehending.

 _What the hell is this?_

The abomination that was her arm didn't seem to be going anywhere, no matter how many times she blinked. The hand didn't even have _fingernails,_ but it responded to her commands to move, stabbing over to the grave that had caught her attention and bringing a lace-wrapped bundle into view. Turning the bundle over revealed that the gleam she'd noticed had come from a mirror, a trinket left behind for the person buried there. And without thinking, Shen peered into its shimmering surface.

 _Oh, God…_

Something from her nightmares was reflected back at her. It was a chilling face, swathed in black fabric, with slits cut so that a pair of two-toned eyes with slitted pupils could stare out. But more jarring than that was that someone had _zippered her mouth shut,_ and nausea swamped her at the sight.

 _Ohgodohgodohgod…_

Her stomach churning, the girl dropped the mirror and turned her eyes back to the scene around her: grass and tombstones, shrouded in mist. The sight of them provided no relief, and she began to hyperventilate.

 _What is this? What's happening to me? This can't be my face!_

Thankfully, logic chose that moment to pierce the growing anxiety in her chest, and Shen settled back on her knees, understanding her situation.

 _Wait a second. I'm dreaming, aren't I?_

The thought brought instant calm to her nerves. Yes, that was it: she was dreaming. After all, hadn't she been worried about the mountain ever since she'd heard that Daisy wanted to camp there? Hadn't she been agonizing over the type of Pokémon that made this part of the continent their home? That worry would certainly be a prime opportunity for her to spend her repose in the grip of some bizarre fantasy, and the fact that she looked the way she did proved the truth of that for her.

 _Well, if I'm dreaming, I should make the most of it. Maybe I'll take a walk and see what this place is like!_

Walking, however, would be a little difficult for the girl given the fact that her feet seemed to have disappeared. Her legs, covered in the same rose-tinted skin as her hands, ended in stumps, and so moving around quickly became a balancing act. But after a few practice steps, she found that that the ends of these stumps actually bent like her ankles had, and soon she was able to take normal strides through the grassy field on the tips of her new appendages.

 _It's just like wearing high-heeled shoes,_ she thought. The feeling of her dream-feet against the sodden grass was a novelty; despite her original fears, she found herself enjoying the experience. _I wonder if I'll be able to run like this?_

Indeed, she _could._ Running was almost absurdly simple, and by flexing the proper muscles, she could even sprint as if wings had attached themselves to her legs. But, eventually, Shen returned to her walk, wandering through the area until she stepped upon something: a piece of gravel. Stooping, she picked up the tiny stone, turning it over in her fingers.

 _Didn't this come from the campsite?_

Intrigued, Shen palmed the rock and resumed walking, keeping an eye open for any other stones. She quickly noticed another one in the same shape and size of the first, then another, and soon the photographer was following a trail of pebbles like bread crumbs through the graveyard.

As she walked, she wondered about the origin of the trail. Had she left the pebbles for herself? It seemed a rather odd thing to do, even when dreaming, but she _had_ thought enough about getting lost, so perhaps it was a way for her mind to put itself at ease for that particular phobia.

 _And it's not like any of this has to make_ sense, she thought. _After all, it's a dream. I've had stranger ones than this._

Following the path of discarded pebbles eventually led her to an place she recognized: the field of gravel that she and Daisy had pitched camp on. Oddly, the purified area, and its protective ropes, had been extended to cover a significant portion of the mountainside, preventing her from descending to the waterside without crossing through the 'fence'. But though she searched, walking up and down on the grassy side of the barrier, Shen could not find any sign of Daisy or the tents they were using.

 _Well, I guess that I can go back inside the mountain if I want to see anything else. Maybe I'll find out where my camera's gotten to…_

Her path decided, the girl moved forward, placing a hand upon one of the ropes that served to cordon off the area. Ever so slightly, one of her fingers brushed up against one of the talismans that hung from the rope, but she ignored the initial contact, seeking to pull back the cord in order to allow herself to pass it.

What happened next was completely unexpected. Pain, sharp and hot, lanced up her arm, and in the next moment, the scrap of paper she'd touched exploded. The burst was no simple pop: the parchment _detonated,_ and the force of it sent Shen flying backward into an upright gravestone, her hand still smoking from the contact.

It took Shen a few minutes to recover from that, for the world had gone funny when the talisman had torn itself apart. Nothing quite functioned as it should have; dully, she brought her hand up, inspecting the charred flesh.

 _I'm hurt? This isn't right. Dreams don't_ let _you get hurt, do they?_

Apparently they did, for her hand was throbbing with discomfort. That kind of ache would undoubtedly have woken her had she been asleep, and it was here that a thought broke through the haze that fogged her mind.

 _This… this isn't a dream, is it?_

It was a little thought. But it chilled her, and as she stared at her hand, Shen felt something snaking its way into her brain, destabilizing the otherwise immovable pillar that was her sanity. Fate, though, had one more card to play, and when she stood, using the gravestone as a crutch to get herself to her feet, she came face-to-face with the legend inscribed upon the rock.

 _Shen Ariae,_ she read. _Loving daughter, ace photographer._

 _You will be missed._

And just like that, her pillar crumbled _._

-/-

Finding Daisy, or her camera, didn't matter after that. There was only herself and the madness inside her head, gnawing at what vestige of her mind was left after seeing her own tombstone. For what seemed like days, she grappled with the weight of the discovery, trying desperately to find meaning in a world gone suddenly spare.

In lucid moments, and only in those when she felt brave enough to chance it, she would make her way back to the mirror she'd found in order to look at her reflection. Each time was a harrowing experience, but with practice, she grew confident enough to actually _study_ herself. What she found, when she could summon the fortitude, was astounding.

The creature whose skin Shen had woken up wearing was something that she'd seen before. Horror stories were filled with depictions of them, for they and all those of their type had always proved a boon for those who wished to frighten others: a Banette. Specifically, a _Mega_ Banette, but wondering just why she'd taken that kind of a form was beyond her. She was far more concerned with wondering why a grave on the mountain bore her name, and it was this train of thought that would eventually return her to a gibbering mess, robbed of reason until higher functions reasserted themselves.

She was most certainly not alone on the mountain during this period, for there _were_ people. Quite a few of them, in fact, and _more_ than a few regularly wandered the area in the hopes of doing something with their spare time. Some, Shen saw, were content to camp, as she had. Others hunted through the grass with their Pokémon. But a handful, the most adventurous, hunted the graveyard itself, searching for things that she could not see. These last people were the closest thing that she had to company, for they were the only ones that would dare make their way into the deeper parts of the cemetery to accomplish their goals. She couldn't approach any of them, though, for even though she attempted to make contact with these travelers in order to seek their aid, the sight of her invariably frightened them away, leaving the girl alone once again to wander in a place that had become her prison.

Time passed, and without a way to escape, Shen began to look for things to do to keep herself from dwelling upon her situation. She counted the pebbles in a rain-filled pool (there were 1,362), eventually using some of them to construct a kind of calendar in order to count the days that she spent on the mountain. But after a month had passed by, she ended up swatting the pebbles aside in a fit. And all she could do was wait.

And wait.

And _wait,_ for something to happen. But little did, and without a place to go, she began making a schedule of the daily events that happened in the graveyard. Strangely, this was a particularly difficult task to accomplish, for though she had plenty of time in which to work, completing this goal required her to calm herself to the point where she could truly _observe_ things.

The majority of visitors arrived by the same kind of ferry that she and Daisy had taken. The ferry didn't operate until mid-morning at the earliest, and until she could hear the faint _chug_ of its engine on the waters below, there was some time to prepare for the people that would invariably arrive along with it. Though her preparation mainly consisted of her finding a secluded corner in which to sit in order to avoid people until nightfall, there were other things that she noticed that the girl didn't necessarily need to be immediately present for. For instance, it rained on Mt. Pyre about once a week. Twice a week, the ferryman that carried people to the mountain liked to light a lantern on his boat, take a bottle of something strong enough to make her nose crinkle when the breeze brought the scent to her, and sing sea shanties until the songs faded to a drunken gurgle. And once a month, on a day with no rain, a particularly strong wind blew through the area with enough force to temporarily rid the mountain of mist. On those days, Shen would make her way as far to the edge of the grassy fields as she could and look out over the cliffs at the distant trail of smoke that signified Mt. Chimney's substantial claim upon the land.

Over there, at the base of that faraway cone of rock, was her home. She could not – and dared not – dwell on that thought for fear of triggering her anxiety. But the scheduling helped her keep a cooler head, and it was because of this activity that she began to notice something else happening.

Every morning, about an hour before dawn, someone would walk on the gravel barrier that prevented her from leaving the mountain. But though Shen could hear the rock crunch underneath this visitor's feet, she never heard the _squish_ of someone's step on the grass outside the protected field. This meant that whoever was walking that way wasn't a Trainer _or_ a tourist, for everyone else who normally traveled to the outdoor area would pass _through_ the gravel and into the graveyard proper. They weren't a caretaker, either, for even though Shen didn't see them often, she knew that those individuals ventured into the grass. So what was this person doing?

Starved as she was for entertainment in her prison, she decided to solve the slight mystery by staying up to discover the identity of the visitor. So, one morning, the girl staked out the field of gravel, training her ears on the tiniest crunch of stone, and through doing this, she was able to get a glimpse of her early-morning interest. It _was_ only a glimpse, for the mist was especially thick in the wee hours that the person chose to visit, but there was a definite figure that she could see that moved through the gravel toward a point that looked suspiciously like…

 _Is that person visiting my_ _grave?_

Something like hope flickered in her heart. If, and only _if,_ that was true, then there was a possibility that the person was someone she knew. And if that were the case, then perhaps that someone would be able to help her get off the mountain.

Once the idea had presented itself, she couldn't let it go; she had to find out exactly where the person was going. Quietly – _very_ quietly – she moved, following the visitor along their path, and thanks to the surprising lightness of her feet, she didn't fall flat on her face while doing so. But though Shen followed as closely as she dared, eventually finding a hiding spot behind a large rock when the figure stopped, the mist choked the air to such a degree that she could barely see where _she_ was, much less the person she'd followed.

 _Damn this mist! I need to_ see _this!_

And as she thought the words, something in her head went _click._ The mist began to thin, and though she was confused as to why that had happened, the girl set the question aside in order to peer at the area around where the figure had stopped. What she found confirmed the hope she'd had, for the person was kneeling in front of a tombstone that she remembered very well.

 _That's it! That's my grave! So it_ is _someone that knows me!_

As Shen watched, one of the figure's hands reached out and laid something at the foot of her grave. This done, the person stood, dusted its palms off, and turned, taking a step back in the direction it had come from. But the girl couldn't let them leave; driven by fresh hope and the charge of desperation, she attempted to open her mouth in order to call out. But all that came of that effort was a broken mumble, and it was with a jab of horror that Shen found that the zipper on the mask covering her face was preventing her from speaking.

Had she not spoken since waking? Had she not _tried_ to say something in the throes of her fear? It hardly mattered now if she had, but her visitor was getting away, and she could not afford to let that happen. So, in a fit of frustration, she grabbed at her mouth, at the hanging fastener to the zipper, and pulled. The pain that such an action caused her – and it was _agony,_ like tearing her own lips off – nearly pushed her into unconsciousness. But she _needed_ to talk, and as the piece of metal _zipped_ across her mouth, finally allowing her access to her voice, she called out to the figure in front of her.

"Wait! Don't go…"

What strength she'd mustered flew away with her words, and she sagged to the ground. But before darkness closed in, something moved forward.

Something white.

-/-

Shen woke again to dappled sunlight. Unconsciously, she raised a hand to block the warmth that was streaming into the eye she'd opened… and as she saw the pink hue of her skin against the sun, she groaned.

 _Damn it. This really isn't a dream, is it?_

But before she could sink back down into sorrow, a low whistle rang out, drawing her attention to the other side of what appeared to be a _cave,_ of all things. And _on_ that other side was a figure she knew.

"Oh, my God…"

The Gardevoir – _her_ Gardevoir – was there, sitting upon a small boulder that rose out of the floor. Its stare was piercing, but in that moment, she didn't care; its very presence was an anchor, a beacon of sanity in her maddened world, and just _seeing_ such a familiar face banished the mania that still lingered on the fringes of her mind.

"I can't believe it," she said. "You… how are you _here? Why_ are you here? What's happened to me?"

In response, the Psychic slipped a hand into the folds of its gown. There was a pocket there, she saw, something that she hadn't noticed before, and from this pocket the creature took a folded, yellowed sheet of paper, which it held out to her from its place on the rock. Sitting up and leaning forward, Shen took it, clumsy fingers opening the page to read the words printed within.

 _Dear Ms. Ariae,_

 _There are no words to express my sorrow for the tragedy that has befallen you. Although I knew her only a short time, your daughter was the most passionate person that I have ever known, and it is with a heavy heart that I send my condolences for her death._

 _If at all possible, my colleagues and I would like to be present at her funeral ceremony. Short though her stay might have been, Shen was part of our company, and though it might seem brash of me to say it, we considered her family._

 _It may not be much, but please know that should you need anything in these times, we will be here for you._

 _Yours,_

 _Leoric Blomford  
Editor-In-Chief, Hoenn Standard Times_

It was with shaking hands that Shen lowered the paper. When she spoke, the words were but a whisper.

"I'm… dead?"

She'd known it before. Some tiny piece of her had known upon seeing her gravestone. But the letter in her hands drove the concept home, and she leaned further forward, clutching the page to herself.

"Oh, God…"

The Gardevoir's whistle took her eyes upward, and she stared as she saw that the Psychic was kneeling before her, shaking its head.

 _No,_ it seemed to say. _No need for crying._

In that moment, Shen was desperate. Her soul reached out, infusing the only question that mattered with all of the strain and stress she possessed.

"What do I do?"

To her surprise, the Gardevoir answered her. But not how she might have expected. Not with its voice, and _certainly_ not with its abilities, which might have let it literally _think_ a sentence into her head. Instead, it raised both hands, and by arranging and _re_ arranging the positions of its fingers, it spelled out two words.

"You live."

-/-

It took some time for Shen to wrap her head around the fact that the Gardevoir communicated with _sign language._ But the reason for such speech was simple: the Psychic was mute. Completely, utterly devoid of speech, in fact, and this discovery was stunning enough to draw her attention away from her own issues.

"Wait, you really can't talk? But why?"

In reply, the Gardevoir lifted its head, exposing its neck. As the light from the mouth of the cave shone in, illuminating that pillar of flesh, Shen bit back a gasp, for a scar had come into view. It was thin, little more than a discolored line against the pearly white of the creature's skin, but it stretched almost all the way around its neck in a distorted smile, and in that scar, the girl found the answer she sought.

 _It's had its throat cut. That must have destroyed its vocal cords… but who in the world would do something so horrible?_

"Oh. I'm… I'm sorry about that."

The Psychic shrugged, and its hands moved again. "It is not concerning."

However, it _was_ concerning to Shen, who had until this point been denied communication. With an actual link between them, she would be able to get some answers from her otherwise silent companion as to exactly how she'd died, but there was one further thing that still nagged at her, a whisper in the back of her head.

"Wait. Can't you use your brain for something like this? I mean, you're a Psychic. Aren't Psychics able to _think_ their words out loud when they want to?"

That question caused the Gardevoir pause, and a few seconds passed by in silence. Then, the creature extended its arm, pointing at a pebble in the dirt to one side of itself. Its hand contorted, and Shen saw that it was trying to levitate the stone. But though minutes passed, and the tendons strained on the Psychic's hand, the rock remained dormant. Finally, it lowered its arm, and as a bead of sweat trickled down one samite cheek, a jolt of understanding found her.

"You don't have powers, do you?"

The words were said softly. But her mind was in another place, for the whisper that had tickled before had grown to a single thought that blotted out all else.

 _It's trapped in its own head._

There weren't words that could have described the sympathy that, in that moment, she felt for the creature. But she knew at least a bit of its temperament from their short time traveling. It wouldn't appreciate her pity. And so she opened her mouth, extending the only olive branch she could.

"So," she asked, "what's the sign for 'hello'?"

-/-

Sign language hadn't exactly been high on Shen's list of interests as a child. In fact, she'd exercised a tiny bit of her rebellious nature in her younger days and completely shunned the study of any form of language other than the one she'd grown up with. But though the aftereffects of her youth were still present, she was far more than willing to try to learn something new for the sake of communication. So she threw herself into the task, pressing lesson after lesson from the Gardevoir in order to reach a point where she could actually have a conversation with it.

The conversation, however, was slow in coming. It took time for her to learn the method of speech to which the Psychic was accustomed, but it was a somewhat patient teacher, taking them on small trips out of the cave and into the world proper in order to assist her when she needed a visual aid for one of its translations. These trips, though short, were dangerous, for setting foot into the graveyard had the potential to trigger her anxiety. So the Gardevoir, on most of these outings, completely avoided the graves and took her on paths that went to lower parts of the mountain, into small alcoves that she hadn't even known lay upon the cliffs. There, in those places, Shen was able to feel the wind blowing through what she'd confirmed was her coat, and as the mist that choked the air tended to thin in the midday sun and the low altitude, she was often able to catch glimpses of the water that lay below. It was peaceful, and though she was still somewhat shaken by what had happened to her, the calm and quiet of an hour spent listening to the faint brushing of grass and the lapping of waves beneath her feet was a balm to her spirit.

In the end, it took what felt like months before she'd learned enough of the Psychic's language to speak to it. But, eventually, she was able to attain enough mastery to satisfy her companion, and in the talk that followed, Shen found out that she'd died on the night that she'd camped out with Daisy. The following morning had brought with it a shock when Daisy had looked into her tent, hoping to wake her friend; though the girl had done the right thing and immediately called for help, the assistance that arrived was unable to revive a person that had passed away hours before.

"There were many sad people," the Gardevoir said, gestures flying as it spun its tale. "Daisy was one of them. Your mother was another. But when they put you in the ground, people stopped coming here."

Tourists still visited the area, it went on to clarify. But while her mother and Daisy did make trips to her grave, there came a time when the visits slowed, then stopped altogether. And the mountain had grown silent again.

"And what about you?" Shen asked. "Where were _you?"_

"Here," it replied. "I have lived here since then."

"What, in this cave? But why?"

At that, the Psychic's otherwise neutral expression became heavy, and it sighed, a huff of air that misted the air in front of its mouth. Even the movements of its hands became slow, and watching it, Shen got the feeling that the topic that it was about to broach was a serious one.

"Because I owe you something. Sitting here was part of it." When she didn't reply, confused, the Gardevoir shook its head. "Do you remember the night you slept here? You spoke to me then. What did you ask?"

Almost of its own accord, her mind went back to that conversation. "I asked you to… keep watch."

"Yes." The Gardevoir nodded. "I did. But you died. And that means that I failed to keep watch. I do not intend to fail again."

The Psychic stood up then, and one of its arms came up to place a fist upon its chest. After it had done this, it lowered its hand in order to speak.

"From this moment forward, I pledge fealty to you."

… _Fealty?_

It was quite honestly the most insane thing Shen had heard someone say. She knew what fealty _was,_ of course: it was a promise of loyalty, taken from an era when buildings were made from boulders and sticks instead of steel and concrete. But when the Gardevoir had said that it owed her something, she hadn't really taken it seriously.

 _But_ it's _serious. It's_ dead _serious, isn't it?_

The realization shot a pint of ice water into her veins. Was it some kind of honor that was making the creature make an oath that might have otherwise seemed ridiculous? Granted, it _was_ ridiculous, but so was her whole situation, and at that moment, there was no one else that could help her.

 _No one else would believe me if I told them that this had happened to me. Not Daisy, not my boss… not even Mom. Only this Gardevoir does, so if it's willing to help me, I guess it wouldn't hurt to let it._

 _I mean, what other option do I have, anyway?_

"I… can't say no, can I?" she finally said. "Well, if you want to help, then I guess I'll take you up on the offer."

"Good." And with that, the Gardevoir sat down again, composing itself. "Now, what do you wish to do?"

The answer to that question was simple, for Shen had had more than ample time to think during her stay on the mountain. Some part of her – most of her, in fact – wanted to find out the reason she'd died, for there had to be some cause for someone in her obvious health to have passed on. But she didn't dare approach that topic just yet, for while the Gardevoir's lessons had helped to restore a semblance of order to the chaos she'd already suffered through, the lessons were effectively over. Now she had to find a new way to distract herself from the yawning gorge that was that drop into madness.

The idea she'd decided upon was to stay true to the objective that her employer – now her _former_ employer, she mused – had given her: to find the man known as Professor Poplar. It was a bit silly, she knew, but it was the only task that she could think of with more than one step, and that would allow her to stave off having to actually _consider_ her situation long enough to truly be able to cope with it.

 _First, I need my camera. Then I'll probably need to see if I can't get some help with finding the professor. If I go to Kalos, then maybe Daisy would be able to do that; she might freak out, but knowing her, she'll probably be over the moon with something like this._

 _And if I'm in Kalos… maybe I can find a way to fix everything._

Shen wasn't completely without hope, for there were a _lot_ of Pokémon in the world. Many had abilities far beyond her reckoning; perhaps, on her travels, she would be able to find one that could return her to the person she'd been. But until the day that such a thing came to pass, she would have to repress her fears in the only way she knew how: by smothering them in work. So she stood, placing her stumpy feet firmly upon the dirt floor of the cave, and addressed the Gardevoir.

"I'm going to get a camera. _My_ camera, if possible. Then, we find Daisy. And _then…_

"…then, I'm getting my picture of that damned professor."

The Psychic nodded, and it was then, in the moment it moved towards the mouth of the cave, that Shen added something else.

"Wait," she said, stopping it. "Before we go… do you have a name? Or am I just referring to you as 'you' from here on out?"

The Gardevoir looked back. Found her gaze. And as the wisp of a smile turned the corner of its mouth, it answered her.

"I am Aesher."


	15. Part I - Chapter 2

Shen's resolve to not think about her personal situation lasted about twenty minutes, which was long enough for the Gardevoir to escort her back through the graveyard and to the southern edge of the mountain. Then, as the two approached the gravel-strewn area that served as the bars to her prison, she found out that the first part of her plan – to get her camera back – was flawed from the start.

"It is with you."

Deciphering _that_ tidbit of information took some time, for the Gardevoir – _Aesher,_ she reminded herself – didn't actually seem all that keen on explaining the meaning of that sentence. In fact, the creature looked like it was trying to _avoid_ doing so, for it was pointedly ignoring her gaze as she tried to convince it to communicate… and then she thought of something.

"Aesher, they didn't bury my camera with me, did they?"

Its continued silence was all the answer she needed, and Shen felt a faint discomfort begin to swirl in the general location of her stomach.

 _Does this thing mean to tell me that my camera is… in my casket? I guess it's fitting, but the thought of it mouldering with my bod-_ _no. No. No, don't think of that. Think of something better. Like the clouds. Yes, those are nice. Better than your favorite camera rotting along with a…_

… _I really need to stop thinking._

That development, however, _required_ her to think, for not having a camera was a serious hindrance. To her, having such a device at her hip was about as fundamental as having oxygen: whatever the cost, whatever the sacrifice, she had to have one.

But where could she get a camera? The professional variants that she was used to weren't exactly something that you could pick up in your normal Poké Mart. Only certain stores carried such items, and the only place that she could think of that stocked cameras was a tiny shop in a place that she'd already been through before: Mauville City.

 _Well, it's the only place I'm_ certain _about, at any rate. There might be one in Lilycove, but if I'm wrong, then I'd have to walk all the way back to Mauville, and that's something that I'd rather not have to do._

Faced with the prospect of backtracking, she sighed, and looked up at the talisman-laden ropes ahead.

"Can we get off this mountain now?"

-/-

Shen might have wished to leave, but that was no simple task. There _were_ simple parts _to_ that task, however: the slips of paper that hung in her way, for instance, were quickly removed by the Gardevoir, clearing a space in the barrier that allowed her to slip through the rope fence. But that was only the beginning.

The real task involved Aesher clearing a path for her through the field of gravel. At first, the girl thought that the Gardevoir would do this by hand, given the fact that there were no tools readily available for use, but the Psychic had other ideas. Moving to a nearby grave, it reached down to the wooden plank that served as a marker for the site and yanked it from the dirt. With this as a tool, Aesher returned to the gravel and began to sweep the stones away, leaving Shen stunned.

"Won't that make someone angry?"

The Psychic didn't seem to care. But as it worked, Shen began to feel a bit guilty about having it do something that she, by all rights, should have been helping with. It simply wasn't in her to let someone else toil while she watched, so she walked over, placed a hand upon one of the talisman-free ropes, and called out.

"Can I do something?"

Aesher looked over at her from its spot in the field. Then, lifting the plank it held, the Psychic brought the length of wood down sideways over its own knee. With a _crack_ that ripped through the morning mist, the timber snapped neatly in half, and in the next moment, one of the halves landed neatly at her feet.

"Do not touch the stones," Aesher signed, and returned to its task as Shen picked up her half of the plank. Gingerly, she brought it down upon the gravel, and began to work.

-/-

Shen hadn't done much labor in her life beyond the chores she'd done at home. But what she lacked in experience she made up for with determination, bending her back to the job and shoveling rocks aside with a will.

Surprisingly, the tedious nature of the work provided an excellent outlet for the frustration she'd had during her imprisonment upon the mountain, an emotion that she hadn't even known she'd been harboring until it had begun to leave her. It also helped her to think about something that _wasn't_ directly related to the bombshell of a concept that was her premature death and summary resurrection, which took a bit of the stress away from the corners of her mind.

 _Shove, shove, shove. Flip this stone, move that stone. Make sure not to touch any of them._

Not touching the rocks was actually the easiest part of the job, for the little pieces of gravel glowed white when her fingers approached them. This effect, she reasoned, was likely due to their being purified, which made them about as dangerous to the creatures that normally wandered through the area as the talismans that Aesher had removed from the rope fence.

 _And dangerous to me, I guess,_ she thought. _I mean, I've already had something blow up in my face._

The memory of that incident was a prime reason why she did not attempt to test the warning she'd been given. But after some time's worth of toil, she was done, having cleared a pathway all the way to where Aesher was standing. The Gardevoir had almost reached the opposite end of the field, but as she approached, it stopped working. Puzzled, Shen looked up at it.

"What's wrong?"

In reply, Aesher bent down, picked up a piece of gravel, and flicked it through a space just above her head. In mid-air, the stone flashed white-hot, and _something_ in the mistlet out a scream, the sound quickly dying out as whatever had caused it ran away from the fragment of purified stone.

"Only you are leaving," the Psychic said, stepping past her to move a section of the stone she'd cleared back into its place.

It was then that Shen realized that during her time on the mountain, she'd met plenty of _people,_ but oddly enough, she'd seen neither hide nor ethereal hair of a ghost. That in itself was incredible, for Mt. Pyre was a graveyard, and as such, it stood to reason that she would have found something else like her in her grassy cage. Why would something have shown itself only now, when she was on the verge of leaving?

 _Are other ghosts trapped here, too?_ Bereft of a simple answer to this, she turned to Aesher for clarity. But when she broached the question of whether it was right that only she should have the right to depart, the Gardevoir shook its head.

"These are not kind spirits. There would be trouble, should they leave here."

Unbidden, the thought of a horde of rampaging nightmares flying out to terrorize a town came to Shen's mind.

 _Oh,_ she thought."Oh," she said.

"Exactly." And the Psychic, having finished its work, walked back to the last bit of the barrier in front of her and swept it aside, opening her path to freedom.

"After you."

-/-

The trip from the top of the stairwell to the southern exit of the mountain was uneventful. But once her feet touched the green grass of the outside, and the soft lapping of the waves graced her ears, a problem presented itself: the ferry, which she had heard so many times before on its trips to and from Mt. Pyre, was absent.

 _It has to be on the other shore,_ she thought. But there was little that she could do about that, for she did not know _which_ shore the ferry was on, or even if she could get to it. Would she have to swim instead of sail to her destination? She didn't even know if a ghost _could_ swim, given the varied superstitions surrounding them, and the thought of not knowing was irritating.

"We'll have to wait for the boat," she said, half to herself. "It shouldn't be too long, so…"

Her words were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder, and she looked up at her companion.

"I will find a boat," the Gardevoir signed. "Wait here." With that, it walked to the edge of the water, crouched, and leapt, a white streak cutting into the lake to disappear under the surface. Shen was speechless: in an instant, she'd been left alone on the shore.

 _Oh, great._

Being by herself was the last thing she'd wanted, for she didn't really wish to leave her mind to its own designs. After all, in one day, or what had _seemed_ like one day, she'd lost her job, her friend, and apparently her life by what, to her, was the silliest thing she'd ever considered: sleeping in a graveyard. But though she struggled mightily to put her brain to work on other topics, one thought could not – _would_ not – be buried.

 _I don't want this._

The words rumbled in her skull, making her clutch at her head as a sudden pain lanced through her head. It was easily the worst headache she'd ever had, and before she knew it, she was on the ground. For a moment, a brief bloom of peace before the roar overtook her, she heard another set of words.

"Shen, wake up!"

Then, nothing.

-/-

"Shen! Wake up!"

The words, given in an absurdly high register, pierced the photographer's skull like a knife, and she sat up, groaning. Unfortunately, she sat up right into the path of her splitting headache, and her hands went straight to her forehead, vainly trying to protect herself from further injury.

"Ow," she said, and laid back down, one hand instinctively moving to push her into a position that wouldn't be quite so agonizing. But though she was able to move into just such a configuration, something about the way the world worked seemed… off. It didn't register for a short time, but Shen's eyes went to the hand that she had been moving herself with, and her eyes popped wide as she saw what the difference truly was.

Her hand had five fingers again.

All her concern for her forehead was forgotten in that moment as she brought those fingers to her face, and as skin touched pink, healthy skin instead of a black, leathery mask, her heart kicked itself into overdrive.

 _What…_

Careful not to aggravate the jackhammer in her skull, she sat up once more, and this time she was successful. Through the pain, she took notice of her surroundings: she'd been placed into a small chamber, the floor paved with white tile. In fact, the whole _room_ was white, save for a double set of red stripes that ran low on each wall and around what appeared to be a doorway leading to who-knew-where. But what soon caught her attention, having placed itself immediately into her path, was a familiar oversized sunhat.

"Oh, Shen! Are you okay? I was so worried!"

The photographer's headache flared at Daisy's every syllable, and she raised a hand, motioning for her companion to settle down. "I'm okay. My head hurts, that's all. But where are we?"

"We're in Mt. Pyre!" came the answer, in a slightly more bearable register. "But I was _so_ worried! You wandered out of the campground last night. Your Gardevoir was looking all over the place, but we couldn't find you until this morning! And when we found you, you weren't breathing or _anything!"_

Shen didn't dare put thought into trying to decipher that statement, for the pain was too sharp to do anything but simply bear it. But Daisy seemed to have had some kind of instructions concerning her return to the world proper, and soon the reporter left, returning after some time with a face that Shen had seen before: Saire, the graveyard's caretaker.

"See, Miss Saire?" Daisy asked, all smiles. "She's woken up!"

"Good," the woman said. She seemed… 'tired' wasn't the exact word, Shen thought. Perhaps 'fatigued'? Regardless, the caretaker seemed drained, but that did not keep her from holding a small smile as she turned to the girl beside her. "Would you be able to give me some time with your friend? I need to speak with her in private."

"Sure! Shen, I'll be waiting outside, okay? I'll see you soon!" With that, and a not-entirely-subtle bit of herding from Saire, the reporter left the room, the door closing behind to seal both photographer and caretaker in the small space, the latter moving to a chair that had been left against the wall and seating herself.

"Miss Ariae," she said. "If you can understand me, there is a cup of water and a small tablet on the table beside you. The tablet is a medicinal remedy to help with your headache. Please take it."

Looking over to one side, the photographer saw that the items were indeed sitting on a small wooden stand. Gingerly, she picked them up, and after looking at the tablet for a moment, popped it into her mouth, chasing the pill down with a swig of water from the cup. It was when she looked up, though, that Shen noticed that Saire was looking at her quite intently. Confused, the girl put the cup back down.

"What's wrong?"

The response to that question was something that Shen hadn't expected: the caretaker slumped into her chair, relief suffusing her expression.

"Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid that you wouldn't come back intact."

"What are you talking about?" Shen asked, wincing as her head delivered another spike of pain. "What do you mean by 'intact'?"

"I am talking about what has happened to you in the past few days," the woman said. "But you will need to listen, because this is not a thing that I can easily explain.

"Your friend – 'Daisy', was it? – came down the morning after you used our camping site and told me that you had disappeared from your tent. She was very worried about what had happened to you, but when I went to investigate, I found something wrong: the area that you had been sleeping in had not been properly purified. That, as you would probably think, is a very bad thing, as it clears the way for our residents to infiltrate and possess those that stay outside at night.

"Please understand that we, as attendants, take turns in performing the necessary rituals that keep our residents from escaping this place and haunting the innocent. These responsibilities are demanding, and there are unfortunately times when one of us will suffer a lapse. In your case, what this means is that because your sleeping spot was unprotected from the influences of our residents, the reason behind your disappearance was most likely due to your mind being compromised by a ghost.

"Tell me, can you remember anything between your arrival here and this moment?"

Shen thought about that, then explained what she had had to go through during the indicated timeframe: her waking up as a Pokémon, her struggle to cope with her own apparent death, and the Gardevoir's presence, along with the explanation that it had given her through sign language. These events took time to go over, but it seemed that Saire had more than enough in the way of time to give the photographer, and the caretaker listened attentively while the story was told save for a few small questions about certain occurrences outlined in the tale. When it was done, though, she continued.

"What you have described is a normal symptom of possession. Unfortunately, this is… not the first time that something like this has occurred. In fact, it is one of the major reasons why we take steps to ensure that our visitors are as safe as possible. But to return to my point, what you 'saw' was most likely a hallucination caused by your possession. Such things happen when one's mind is not one's own."

"But if that's true," Shen cut in, "why did I see my own grave?"

"That is most likely related to your mind's attempt to inject a measure of control into the hallucination. This would also explain the presence of your Gardevoir in your nightmare, I think, for your mind would have needed to use whatever tools it had at hand, such as familiar information, in order to keep sane, for lack of a better term. You're actually quite lucky, young miss, for although the human brain is agile, prolonged exposure to an outside force such as this can lead to some very unfortunate ends."

By this time, the medicine that Shen had been given had begun to perform its job, and as her headache began to recede, the girl gave a sigh of relief. She could _think_ again, and she spent a minute simply breathing. Then, once she was sure that the pain would not return, she risked speaking once more.

"How did I get here?"

"You have your Gardevoir to thank for that," Saire said. "It was walking the graveyard for these past days, looking for you. Goodness knows how it avoided the residents, but it did. It brought you back here last night."

"Oh. Is it okay?"

"Of course. It's sleeping in one of the other rooms right now, so please try not to worry."

Shen wasn't particularly worried about the creature, for she knew that it could take care of itself. Instead, she continued with something a bit more important to her.

"So, is it all right if I get up now? You're not going to force me to be here, are you?"

"We would never do such a thing!" Saire said, appearing hurt. "Of course you are free to go. But I would ask that you consider staying at least a few more days in order to avoid the possibility of relapse."

Unfortunately, 'relapse' wasn't a word that Shen heard very often, so she asked the obvious question of the caretaker.

"What do you mean by 'relapse'?"

"Oh, forgive me. As I said, this is not the first time we have had this kind of… accident. Despite our precautions, when these incidents happen, there is sometimes a kind of echo of the event left behind, and those can cause one to suffer further hallucinations.

"If this happens, don't panic. Just treat it as a dream."

That wasn't a particularly helpful comment given the severity of the visions she'd suffered through, but Shen was grateful that the woman had helped her. So she swallowed the remnants of her frustration and continued her line of questioning.

"But will these hallucinations go away?"

"With time, yes," Saire answered. "Your mind needs to heal, but it will have to work through things on its own. Some people are able to cope sooner than others, but as long as you keep a cool head, you should be fine.

"Again, I am sorry about this. We intended the mountain to be a place that everyone could enjoy." One slender hand went into a pocket, pulling forth a slip of paper, which the caretaker handed to Shen. "Please feel free to contact me if you need someone to speak to. After what's happened, helping you with your recovery is the least I can do.

"And please, if nothing else, accept my apology for what you have gone through."

-/-

It wasn't much longer after that that Shen was able to leave the room. Meeting Daisy, however, wasn't the highest thing on her priority list: retrieving her camera _was._ That, she found, had been placed in a storage room not too far from where she had woken up. But when Saire took her to that location and opened the door, she found that something else had been placed there: a cot. On the cot was a familiar white form, and as its sides rose and fell in sleep, the caretaker beside the girl let out a small sigh.

"Ever since it brought you back, it hasn't let anyone touch your things. But it also hasn't let anyone go too far into this room, so it's becoming a bit of a problem for some of the people that need the supplies in here."

The Psychic, Shen saw, had taken complete charge of her backpack and camera bag, for both pieces of luggage were lying against the wall behind its cot. A potential thief would have had to step over the creature in order to get near her items; judging from what she knew of the Pokémon, that would have been a horrible idea. But she felt a smile drawing her lips up, and she turned to Saire. "It's okay. I can handle this."

"All right, then," the woman said. "Just follow the hallway when you're ready. The ferry will be here within an hour, should you need to use it." With that, the caretaker departed, leaving the girl to step forward, clear her throat, and speak.

"May I get my camera, please?"

As the words left her mouth, the Psychic's green head, complete with its ruby stare, twisted to see who was disturbing its rest. Seeing the owner of the voice that had rang out in the storage room, the Pokémon got to its feet and collected the items on the floor, strapping her backpack to itself before walking to the doorway, her camera bag in hand. The device was in _her_ hand a moment afterward, and Shen sighed: her camera was _here,_ not in a coffin.

She was whole again.

"Thanks. Let's get Daisy and get out of here."

-/-

Daisy wasn't far away. In fact, the reporter nearly bowled Shen over with the force of one of her rib-cracking hugs. But before Shen could catch her breath, her companion was off and talking.

"Oh, my God, Shen, I'm so glad you're okay! I am _so_ sorry I made you come here. It must have been _horrible_ out there!"

Taken at face value, those words could have possibly come off as condescending. But the look on Daisy's face squelched any suspicion toward that end: the girl was nearly in tears, clutching at Shen's shoulders like she would disappear if her grip were to be loosened. It was a face of completely naked remorse, the face of someone blaming themselves for a problem, and though Shen hadn't actually _considered_ blamingDaisy for the ordeal she'd gone through, seeing the girl's expression was enough to keep her from doing so.

It wasn't her fault, Shen knew, and she said as much. "It's okay, Daisy. But I'd rather not camp out here again."

"No problem!"

With that settled, Daisy filled her in on what had transpired during the few days she'd been away from civilization. Unfortunately, the two of them had missed the boat that they had been traveling to meet. Fortunately, though, there was a silver side to that lining: the boat they'd been sent to hadn't been carrying the professor.

"You wouldn't believe it, but he actually stole a lifeboat from the ship two days after it sailed and _rowed_ to Kalos! I mean, it wasn't too far, but isn't that amazing? It'll make a great story when we find him!"

"Wait, we're still going after him?"

"Yeah! I got a call from my office back home. The professor was seen in Cyllage City, so we'll be going to the beach! We just have to get back to Slateport, or we'll miss the next boat out!"

That was a surprise; Shen hadn't thought that they'd have to backtrack to the other harbor. But the issue with that was due to time, for as Daisy explained it, the only ship currently heading to Kalos from Hoenn was leaving from Slateport City. There would not be another opportunity to make the trip for weeks afterward due to conflicting ship schedules, and because of this, they would have to retrace their steps and return to the harbor where they'd once been directed to avoid.

"It's tedious, I know," Daisy said, seeing the suffering expression that the thought of walking back all that distance evoked in the photographer. "But that's just how the job works. We'll just have to work with it."

In the face of the logic, Shen could not help but agree. There was, however, an inconvenience to that plan: that of the time that they would spend in walking back to Slateport. It had taken them days to make their way past Fortree and onto Mt. Pyre. It was a logical assumption that it would take them at least that long to return along the same route, and this set Shen to thinking.

"How long do we have before the ship sails?"

"Um… let me see." One hand went into the reporter's handbag, and soon Daisy withdrew, of all things, a _day planner_ from its depths. The little book was pink, and as she flipped it open, Shen saw a floral pattern pressed into each page. "Oh, here it is! It's going to sail in… about four days, I think. We should have plenty of time to make it there if we hurry."

That sounded good enough, but as the girl opened her mouth to agree, she was reminded of an obstacle.

 _What about the bridge?_

The connecting bridge near the Weather Institute had been destroyed the last time they had passed that way. It had been some time since they'd actually been there, but would that have been enough time for the workers that had attended to the problem to return the structure to a useable state? It was entirely possible, to be sure, but as Shen mulled over the thought, she began to realize that it wasn't the possibility of the bridge being there or not that had her skeptical about the subject. Rather, it was something far more simple: she needed to get back to work, to recover the opportunity to exhibit productivity that she'd lost while being puppeted around on a mountaintop. Spending days making the loop around Fortree City would not be the way to accomplish that.

And it was then that a particularly interesting little idea hit her.

"Daisy, if I said that we had a way to get to Slateport quickly, would you believe me?"

-/-

Surprisingly, Daisy _did_ believe her. But as the ferry pulled up to the dock at Mt. Pyre, the journalist asked Shen a question.

"Isn't Route 123 supposed to be a nature reserve now?"

"Yes," she answered as they boarded. "But it's a lot faster than traveling all the way back from where we came, and I'm not really sure if the bridge around that area has been repaired after the last time we were around the Weather Institute. And even if they _did_ fix it, there's no guarantee that it hasn't been knocked out again by something or other. So the most reliable way to go would be through this route."

That seemed to be enough to satisfy her partner, and as the girl moved to the front of the boat in order to pick the boatman's brain. Listening to the conversation, Shen found out that the man had been retired from an office job due to his age. He had bought the boat years ago, but had never used it; instead of letting it go to waste, he had spent a bit of time learning the skill of sailing in order to provide a bit of community service for those who needed to travel over the water.

While Daisy jotted down the man's life story, though, Shen sat back, her thoughts going back to the events on the mountain: namely, her apparent death and resurrection. There was a kind of relief in the knowing that that incident had, as she'd hoped, been a dream, despite having sustained 'injuries' in the process.

 _And now that I think about it, there were a couple of things wrong with that scenario. For one, I coped with being dead really fast. I mean,_ really _fast. That's not something that normally happens outside of a dream or somesuch._

It really didn't make much sense when she considered it. After all, why would she have died in the first place? And for that matter, why would she have died _and woken up as a Pokémon?_ That was absurd. Heck, she'd read paperback fantasy bookswith more inspiration than the kind of dreamscape she'd wandered through. But such was the case of… whatever she'd been thrown into.

 _I suppose that I should be grateful that I didn't get my soul sucked out of my body,_ she mused, a faint hint of philosophy making its way into her dialogue. _But I_ really _don't think that I want to go to that mountain again._

 _Maybe I can ask Daisy if she wants to make a story out of it later…_

With reasoning largely out of the way, Shen began to relax. She was okay. Frazzled and confused, to be sure, but okay, and certainly not dead. But as she continued to mull over the events of the past few days, she came to the realization that there was something about her time spent 'dead' that she hadn't a simple answer for. So she sat up, turned to the Gardevoir sitting at one side of the ferry with its little book, and opened her mouth.

"Hey, Aesher," she said, nonchalantly. "Thanks for helping out last night."

In her nightmare, the Gardevoir had told her its name. That, over everything else, was the one thing about her time spent hallucinating that couldn't be easily explained away, for why would she come up with a name as outlandish as 'Aesher'? It _was_ possible that the name had come from whatever had been playing hopscotch in her brain, but it was a bit too much of a stretch for her to believe that at first glance. So, on the spur of the moment, she'd come up with an idea: to bring up the name conversationally in order to see if she would get a response from the creature that followed her.

However, the Gardevoir remained silent. Indeed, it didn't so much as _twitch_ in her direction, and after a moment, Shen allowed herself to relax completely.

 _Okay, it really_ was _a hallucination. Thank God; I don't know what I would have done if_ any _part of that had been real._

"Hey," she said, a little more contritely than she had before. This time, the Gardevoir looked at her, and she continued. "I'm sorry I made you worry the other night. I don't know what happened, but I… I think I'm okay now. I just wanted to thank you for helping to make sure I didn't stay on that mountain forever."

The Psychic shrugged, but Shen wasn't quite finished. "Look, I… well, I'd like to start calling you something. I mean, we're going to be traveling together for a while, so I think it might be best if I could start saying something other than 'you' whenever we talk. Would that be okay?"

Another shrug was her answer, and the girl set to thinking.

What would one call a Gardevoir? There were words aplenty, but most of them could be categorized as endearments rather than names, and though she could think of a few things that she might have called the creature that had been her stalker not so long ago ('Psyche' was a strong contender), nothing of what she came up with seemed fitting enough to actually use.

However, her ordeal on the mountain hadn't left her without something to take off of it.

"Well, would you mind if I called you 'Aesher', like I just did? It was something I heard when I was hallucinating. It sounds like a decent name."

The Gardevoir considered it. Then it nodded, and Shen smiled. "Okay, then. 'Aesher' it is."

And the Psychic returned to its book.


End file.
